


Home in the Rain

by supportingcharacters (orphan_account)



Category: Attack on Titan, Shingeki no Kyojin
Genre: M/M, strong language in some scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/supportingcharacters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marco saw him out in the rain, he offered him some coffee. He looked like he could have used some warming up. He didn’t expect that he would become such a big part of Marco’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain brings the cold and the wet, but also new life. No plants or flowers would grow without rain.
> 
> During this particular rainy day, Marco Bott meets a stranger.

The coffee shop was warm, bright and cosy. Yellow walls, coloured couches, comfy chairs and tables. In one end, a fire roared in the fireplace. On the opposite end, the workers bustled about, preparing teas, coffees and hot chocolates. It was packed full of people, barely a chair was unoccupied. The queue to order a take-away drink was nearly out the door. On rainy days such as this one, “Hanji’s House” always did good business.

Marco smiled, handing the hot chocolate to-go to the customer. As he handed her the change, he looked out the window. It was still raining. It was just one of those days, he decided. The sky was a dark, almost ominous color, even though it wasn’t that late. The rain had been pouring all day, sometimes lightly, sometimes thundering. The whole world outside of the coffee shop seemed dull and grey. Marco sighed, his smile slipping a little. He had to walk home today. At least he had an umbrella with him.

He noticed someone outside. A young man, looking through the window. He made no motion to come in to the coffee shop…he was just standing there. He didn’t have an umbrella or a proper jacket, just a worn-out hoodie. He must be freezing, Marco thought. From his current position, he couldn’t see his face at all.

“Yo. Marco,” Hanji said, flicking him with a tea towel. “You in a trance, or something?” The light reflected off of her glasses momentarily.

Marco jumped. “S-sorry!” he said, slightly embarrassed that his employer had caught him staring at some guy while he should have been working. “I’ll get making those lattes straight away!”

Hanji laughed loudly, hands on their hips. “Check the time, Marco. Your shift is over. You should be getting home soon.”

Marco checked his watch. Sure enough, it was six o’ clock. “Oh! Well, thanks!” he said. “I’ll probably be getting going soon, then. Are you sure you don’t need me to stick around? It is kind of busy…”

Hanji shook her head. “Mina’s coming in soon, we’ll manage without you. Now get going – that rain has lightened a little. I’d tell you to take a coffee to keep you warm on the way home, but you don’t drink coffee, do you?”

Marco’s gaze darted to the window. That guy was still there. “Actually,” he said. “I might take a coffee today.”

***

“Excuse me!” Marco said, umbrella in one hand, coffee cup in the other. The man in the hoodie turns around to look at him for a second, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Marco’s brow crinkled slightly. He followed the man. “Excuse me!” he said, louder this time. The man turns again. Marco jogged a little to catch up to him. Now that they’re closer, Marco can see his face. Suspicion clouds the man’s face. His hazel eyes are narrowed slightly, his mouth in a grimace. Marco could just about make out a shock of blond hair under his hood. He didn’t just look suspicious. He looked…defeated. Like someone who had given up on something big. Marco shook his head – those were weird thoughts.

Marco smiles widely, handing him the cup. “Hey there,” he said. “I work in the coffee shop just there. I saw you looking in, and gosh it’s so cold and wet, I thought you might need a little warming up.”

The man’s face showed disbelief. “I…I don’t have any money,” he said. His voice was low, and smooth like velvet. Marco could listen to that voice all day.

“It’s okay,” Marco said. “Hanji – she’s the owner – always lets us take a coffee at the end of our shift, and she never charges us! But I don’t really like coffee…I saw you looking in the window but you didn’t come in, so I thought that you might enjoy a free coffee more than I would!”

The man still looked slightly suspicious. His hazel eyes flickered from the coffee to Marco. He looked kind of surprised, too. Marco didn’t understand why – it was just a cup of coffee.

“Why are you being so nice?” he asked. “You don’t know me.”

“Do you have to know someone to be nice to them?” Marco asked. “It’s just a cup of coffee. It’s no big deal.”

Slowly, the man raised his hand to take the cup. His fingers brushed off of Marco’s. They were freezing. The man took a sip, and shuddered slightly. “Thank you,” he said to Marco, genuine gratitude in his eyes.

Marco beamed. “Anytime.”

The man turned and walked away before Marco could ask him his name. He held the cup of coffee like it was a precious treasure. He was odd, Marco thought. Though then again, so am I.

***  
Connie laughed heartily. “Dude! You’re such a weirdo. Just giving people on the streets free coffee!” He laughed again.

“Shush!” Sasha said, flicking Connie on the head. “Marco was being nice. At least he has a heart, unlike you!”

“Who needs a heart when you can have Sasha’s cooking?”

Marco laughed at his roommate’s behaviour. Sasha, their friend, handed him a dish. Marco didn’t even know what it was, but if Sasha made it, it was bound to taste good. Most nights Sasha ended up cooking for him and Connie – they couldn’t cook at all, whereas Sasha was a master.

“Anyway,” Sasha continued, sitting down at the table herself. “I thought it was kind of sweet! Did you get his name? What did he look like?”

Marco shook his head. He regretted it. He wasn’t sure why, but the man in the rain intrigued him. “He left before I could introduce myself.” Marco tried to remember the details. “He had blond hair and he was a little smaller than me. I’d never seen him before.”

Sasha nodded thoughtfully while Connie shook his head. “You guys,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Don’t you realise that it can be dangerous to go up to some fucking stranger? You don’t know who it could be. Marco’s coffee guy could be a murderer or a stalker or something. You guys need to be more careful.”

Marco shook his head. He put down his fork. He understood what Connie was trying to say, but… “He wasn’t like that,” he said. Connie raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, I’m sure you know him so well after exchanging what? Three sentences with him?”

Marco smiled, trying to placate his roommate. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “I just felt as if he wasn’t dangerous. I guess I just had a good vibe from him.” He laughed a little, aware of how dumb it sounded.

“Right. Dude, what the fuck are you on?” Connie asked. All three laughed.

Later, after Marco and Connie had said their goodbyes to Sasha, Marco’s phone beeped.

 **From:** Potato Girl  
 **To:** Freckled Jesus  
yo marco, don’t get upset about what C said. he has our best interests at heart  i wont be over tomorrow, but i left a lasagne in ur fridge so u wont starve :D if u see coffee guy again tell me!!!!!!!!!!!! night 

Marco smiled. He knew Connie was just looking out for him. He and Connie had known each other since childhood. They lived on the same street but they didn’t become friends until high school (which was when they met Sasha, too). The three had become inseparable. They all went to the same University too, the Uni on the outskirts of the city. While Sasha lived on campus with her friend Mikasa, Connie and Marco rented a tiny apartment in the city. They liked staying closer to the city, and the University was only fifteen minutes on the bus anyway.

Marco was studying accounting at Uni, and worked at Hanji’s House in the evenings and weekends to pay for his rent. He was working at the same time again tomorrow. He wondered if he’d see coffee guy again tomorrow.

***

 **From:** Freckled Jesus  
 **To:** Potato Girl  
hes here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 **From:** Potato Girl  
 **To:** Freckled Jesus  
Who????

 **From:** Freckled Jesus  
 **To:** Potato Girl  
COFFEE GUY

 **From:** Freckled Jesus  
 **To:** Potato Girl  
OK my shifts over im gonna give him another coffee

 **From:** Freckled Jesus  
 **To:** Potato Girl  
here we go

 **From:** Potato Girl  
 **To:** Freckled Jesus  
gl!!!!

***  
Coffee Guy smiled at him. He didn’t look suspicious like he did yesterday. Well, that wasn’t true. He looked slightly wary still, but not as much as yesterday. He was looking considerably perkier than the previous day too. When he took the coffee he gave Marco a smile, which showed his teeth. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but his hood wasn’t up. Marco could see his whole face now.

He could also see that he was…very handsome. Marco gulped.

“I’ll pay you back for these, Freckles,” he said. “I promise. I can’t right now, but I will.”

Marco laughed. “It’s only coffee. I don’t like it anyway; it’s really not a big deal!”

Unlike the previous day, Coffee Guy didn’t leave immediately. “Thanks,” he said, his voice slightly lower. His voice was smooth as water, Marco could listen to it all day. 

Coffee Guy ran a hand through his messy blond hair. “I’ll be going then,” he said.

Marco didn’t know what to say. He wanted to talk to Coffee Guy more – he was mysterious and attractive, who wouldn’t want to talk to him more? But Marco wasn’t brave enough to say anything, so he watched Coffee Guy walk down the street.

An idea struck him. He chewed his lip for a moment, before deciding “oh, fuck it, let’s try this.”

“Hey! Coffee Guy!” he yelled.

Coffee Guy whirled around, an eyebrow raised. His mouth curled upwards slightly.

“My name isn’t Freckles!” Marco yelled.

Coffee Guy laughed. It wasn’t a proper, hearty laugh. It was a short laugh, but even so it was a great sound. 

“What is it then?” he called back.

“Marco! Marco Bodt!”

“Well, Marco Bodt, my name isn’t Coffee Guy!”

Marco smiled widely. Coffee Guy returned the smile before turning. “My name is Jean Kirstein!”


	2. scuffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another rainy day in Trost city. Jean really doesn't like the rain, but there's nothing he can do.  
> Marco brightens his day, but then he manages to get himself into a fight.  
> Surprise, surprise.

Jean was cold.

Jean was wet.

Jean was tired.

Jean was scared.

Jean was hungry.

There were a lot of things wrong with Jean. He should have been in a prestigious university studying law, on his way to a comfortable life. But no, life decided to fuck up a few things, and now he was sitting alone in the rain in some dirty alleyway, in a city that wasn’t even his own.

Sighing deeply, Jean pushed himself up. It was raining again, he noticed. He sighed, pulling his hood up. He sneezed loudly. He must have a cold coming on. No wonder, he  
thought bitterly.

Jean stuffed his hands into his pockets and shuffled out of the alley. People pushed past him, everyone hurrying to find shelter from the rain. Cars honked their horns loudly, the rain thrummed on the rooftops of the buildings and the huge clock on town hall chimed, signalling the end of another hour.

Jean glanced up at the clock, and despite himself, he smiled. Marco’s shift at the coffee shop should be finished soon. He began to work his way through the streets to Hanji’s House.

It had been nearly two weeks since he and Marco had first met. In that time he had found out that Marco was a year older than him, was studying accounting at Trost University and lived off-campus in an apartment in the city.

The boy was ridiculously trusting. But he was kind, and easy to get on with. Just exchanging a few words with him made Jean’s day a little better.

Jean’s days were all laid out in the same, monotonous pattern. They were bleak and grey, almost blurred into each other. A few words with someone as kind and warm as Marco kept him going. Jean really appreciated the coffee – it was cold these days, and the coffee warmed him up (not to mention it tasted great) – but he really valued the company more than the coffee.

It’s not like he would tell anyone that, though.

***

Marco laughed. “Yeah, Connie’s like that. He’s reliable and a good guy, but sometimes I wonder if he’s a two year old trapped in a twenty year old man’s body. Our friend Sasha’s the same. You wouldn’t think it, but she has an insatiable appetite. I mean it. We were at this festival last year, and there was one of those eating competitions. She won by miles, and asked Connie to buy her a hamburger ten minutes later.”

Jean chuckled, inching slightly closer to Marco. The rain was still thundering down and Marco’s umbrella wasn’t exactly huge.  
“Seems like your friends are kinda strange, Freckles,” he said, taking a gulp of his coffee.

Marco smiled. “You’re never going to stop calling me that, are you?” he asked.

“Never.”

Marco laughed again. It was cold and wet outside, but he didn’t care. “What about your friends, then?” he asked. He had seen Jean nearly every day for two weeks, but he still knew virtually nothing about him. He also hadn’t mentioned him again to Connie, but Sasha knew about these regular meetings.

“My friends?” Jean stayed silent for a moment. “I haven’t seen most of them in ages. Most of them live in Karanese City.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Yeah. My friend Eren and I came here a few months ago. Haven’t really been in contact with my old friends much. Haven’t seen Eren that much either.”

“Really? That’s odd. What’s he like?”

“Eren? An asshole. No really, he’s a little shit. We’ve always argued and we’ve always fought, but somehow we remained friends.”

Marco nodded. “Listen, Jean,” he said. “I need to get going. It’s Connie’s birthday tomorrow, and he’s staying at his parents’ house tonight, so Sasha and I are throwing some last minute surprise party plans together. I’m supposed to be meeting her soon…”

Slightly disappointed, Jean just nodded. He barely knew Marco, it was only natural that they wouldn’t spend too much time together. “Sure,” he said, draining the last of his coffee.

“Also, I’m working the early shift tomorrow. I’ll be finished at noon instead of the usual time. Will I still see you?” Marco sounded pretty hopeful. Jean smiled.

“Yeah. Later, Freckles.”

Marco beamed. “Take care, Jean! See you tomorrow!”

***

Jean raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, Jaeger?”

Eren Jaeger stood straight, his arms crossed and his features dragged down into a vaguely pissed-off expression. As usual. “You know what I came to say, Jean.”

Jean sighed. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I’ve seen you outside that coffee shop three nights in a row. It was easy to follow you. For someone who doesn’t want to be found, you make it too easy.” Jean said nothing. Eren looked around the alleyway. “So, this is where you’re sleeping?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Not everyone has a best friend or a sister that they can stay with.”

Eren sighed. “You should go home, Jean. I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you go home?”

“My mother’s dead, Kirstein.”

“And I don’t want mine to follow suit! Besides, what about your dad?”

Eren glared at Jean. “It’s safer here,” he said. “We can’t go home, not yet.”

Jean ran a hand through his damp hair, but said nothing. He knew what was going to happen. This happened at least once a week. Both he and Eren were tired of it, but they were both too stubborn to give in.

“We need to go to the police.”

“Fuck this, Eren. The police can’t do anything. If we do go to them we’ll make it worse.”

“No we won’t! Not if we go to them together. If I went myself, maybe that’d cause problems for you. But if you come with me, we’ll be safe.”

Jean blew out air through is mouth. “Let’s stop beating around the bush,” he said. “Are we going to fight, or not?”

Eren lunged for him and punched him in the face. His fist connected with Jean’s nose.

This was how it always happened. Eren would find Jean, try to convince him to go to the police.

Jean tackled Eren, grabbing him around the waist. Eren was better at throwing punches, but Jean was taller and used to be heavier. He used his weight to knock Eren off of his feet. They both tumbled to the ground.

Jean wasn’t as strong as he used to be. He hadn’t had a proper, hearty meal in weeks.

Jean would refuse. They were both stubborn bastards. And it would always – always – end up in a fist fight.

Jean straddled Eren’s waist and clenched his hands into fists. He slammed his right into Eren’s jaw and followed up with a left hook to his chest. Eren grunted underneath him.

It was just the way things were.

Eren squirmed and brought his leg up, kneeing Jean in the crotch.

As kids, they would always fight over their disagreements. They still fought, even now.

Jean hissed, and Eren used this chance to reverse their positions. He quickly stood up, and sent a kick in to Jean’s side.

Now that they were both in danger, it felt good to fight.

Jean curled up and gasped. He was definitely doing worse in this fight.

Not only did it relieve stress, it gave their situation a strange sense of normality.

He grabbed Eren’s leg and pulled him down. Immediately, his fist shot up and bloodied Eren’s lip. Jea received a knee to the rips for his trouble.

It made Jean feel as if he wasn’t alone.

Jean launched a punch to Eren’s stomach, and Eren lashed out with his legs at Jean’s shin. Jaeger’s fingers grabbed at Jean’s light hair, and pulled harshly.

Although it wasn’t exactly a good habit to have. They would always finish off hurt and angry. It managed to make Jean feel slightly better, but also worse at the same time.

They continued rolling around, kicking, punching and even biting. Luckily, they were in an alleyway, so no bystanders tried to break them up.

Eventually they lay panting and bleeding, leaning against opposite walls. Jean felt bruised all over, and he was certain his nose and lip were bleeding. His cheek stung, he had scraped it on the ground one of the times Eren had tackled him. He wiped away a trickle of blood from the cut.

They said nothing. Jean knew Eren would leave soon. And hey presto! No sooner had the thought formed and Eren was stumbling to his feet. He shuffled off without a word.

Jean laughed bitterly. “See you next week, Jaeger!” he called after him.

He struggled to his own feet, and stumbled out of the alley onto the street. The rain was a lot lighter now.

His face and body hurt. He was mad at Eren – why couldn’t he fucking try and understand for once, instead of being a stubborn asshole? Jean was much worse off than Eren. Eren would go home to a small but warm apartment, where his best friend Armin would patch him up. His adopted sister Mikasa would be there the second she had heard Eren was hurt, and the three would spend the night together, safe and warm.

Jean had none of that. He didn’t have anyone to help clean the blood off of his face. He had eaten his meal of the day. He would sleep on the cold ground in a dirty alleyway.

At least the rain would wash most of the blood off of his face.

Jean didn’t realise he was crying until the first tear dropped off of his chin. At first he thought it was the rain, but who was he kidding?

Despite being in the middle of a fairly busy street, he slumped against a wall. The people walking by gave him disgusted looks.

He rubbed his eyes furiously. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen! He was meant to be a lawyer in a rich family, he was meant to live an easy and comfortable life! But instead he was a bloody mess crying in the street while people looking on, disgusted. Jean closed his eyes.

Life wasn’t fair.

“Jean! Jean! Hey, JEAN!”

Jean opened his eyes to see Marco Bott, holding a bunch of balloons, kneeling down in front of him.

“Marco?”

Perfect. Not only did he manage to look pathetic in public, he managed to look pathetic in front of one of his only, kind-of, sort-of friends.

“Jean, what the hell happened?” Marco asked. Jean couldn’t help be touched by the concern in his voice.

“Got into a fight,” he grunted. Marco reached up. His fingertips lightly brushed the cut on his cheek. Jean winced.

“Sorry,” Marco said, looking worried as he bit his lip. “Listen, we need to get you cleaned up, you look really beaten up. Where’s your home? I’ll help you back.”

Jean felt his stomach sink. He felt terrible. How could he tell Marco that he didn’t have a home? Would Marco write him off as a good for nothing criminal, and judge him? Would his worried expression turn into a disgusted expression? Would he judge him like everyone else?

Jean felt his eyes water up again. “Marco…I – I don’t…”

Marco saw the tears threatening to flow on the younger man’s face. He realised something bad must be happening. In the last two weeks, Jean usually looked as if he didn’t care. The only times he didn’t was when he was laughing or smiling at something Marco said. To see him about to cry…

Marco stood up, and offered a hand to Jean. Jean looked at it without saying anything. “Come on, Jean,” he said, a determined ring in his voice. Jean stared for a moment before accepting the help. Once he was standing, Marco put a hand on his shoulder. “Connie’s away tonight, our apartment is empty. You’re staying the night.”

Jean let Marco guide him through the streets. “What?”

Marco smiled softly and pushing his hair out of his face. “Someone needs to patch you up,” he said. “Why not me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfg thank you everyone who left kudos or comments  
> like wow youve no idea how thankful i am  
> it really means a lot uwu uwu uwu
> 
> tell me what you guys think of this chapter!  
> im trying to do weekly updates now so there will probably be updates on mondays/sundays  
> ok k until next week  
> -xoxo viola


	3. safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco spend some time together.

Mikasa frowned, looking at Eren’s bloody lip.

Eren groaned, leaning back in the couch. “Armin,” he whined, closing his eyes. “I told you not to tell Mikasa!”

“I’ve a right to know when you’ve gotten yourself hurt,” she said sharply, as Armin looked down at his shoes.

Eren opened one eye. “Please. It was only Jean; I can barely even feel it.” 

Mikasa shook her head. “You shouldn’t be getting into fights. And neither should Jean! He should know better…” 

Eren scoffed, but looked down when he noticed Mikasa’s angry expression. “The plan was for you two to lie low, wasn’t it? Fighting in the street could land you in a police…station,” Mikasa trailed off. “Jean won’t go to the police. Are you trying to land yourself in a police station so that he’ll have no choice?”

Eren said nothing for a moment. He leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbow on his thigh and his chin in his hand. Armin sat next to him, dabbing at the grazes on the palm of his other hand with an antiseptic pad. 

“Jean’s the most stubborn person I know-”

“Apart from you,” Armin piped up.

Eren glared at his best friend, still angry that he told his sister about his fight. “Sorry,” Armin squeaked, refocusing on cleaning Eren’s hand. Mikasa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“As I was saying,” Eren continued, looking up at Mikasa. “Jean’s stubborn. And stupid. His parents don’t know anything about this whole situation; they think he’s studying at the University here. He never even had a run in with the police before, so he has no record. The only thing stopping him from returning to his old life is the fucking Titans.” Eren’s brow furrowed. “If we went to the police together, they’d be taken care of and we could go back to normal. But no! He’s living on the streets because he’s too big of a coward to go to the police.” Eren’s voice began to get louder. “If I go alone that’d put him in more danger, but if we go togeth- Ow! Armin!”

Mikasa turned her head sharply. Armin had been wrapping Eren’s hand in a bandage, and had pulled it too tightly. “Sorry,” the blonde muttered. 

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “D’you have something to say?” she asked.

Armin gulped, and retied the bandage. “Yeah,” he said, looking at Eren. “Eren, I know you want to go home, but you need to consider things from Jean’s point of view.”

Eren looked as if Armin had betrayed him. “What do you mean by that!” he roared.

“Eren, no don’t look like that, Eren – listen! If you went to the police, you’d be able to tell them everything because you didn’t get into too much trouble. But Jean, Jean was a lot more involved with the Titans than you were, if he was to tell the truth to the police he’d be giving himself in! Don’t you understand? He’d go to jail if he went to the police.”

Eren was silent, but Mikasa could see the emotions fighting in his eyes. 

“Besides,” said Armin. “The police are already looking for the Titans. Occasionally they catch one or two, but it makes no difference unless they catch the leader. If you two went to the police it wouldn’t make a difference. You’d still be in danger until the leaders were caught.”

Mikasa silently agreed with Armin. If they knew the location of the main shots in the Titans, they’d be able to go to the police, have the Titan problem solved without Jean turning himself in and they would be able to go back to their old lives. But they didn’t know their location. Going to the police would do nothing but land Jean in prison and if anything, encourage the Titan’s to speed up their search for him and Eren.

“Going to the police will solve nothing,” she said. “You two need to wait until the Titans disband, then you can go back to normal.”

“Aw, come on!” Eren said. “You’re taking his side! Unbelievable!”

“And if I find out you’ve been fighting again…” Mikasa trailed off, but the threat was still audible. 

Eren scoffed. “Please,” he said, rolling his green eyes. “It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve fought.”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “What?! Eren-”

“I just feel bad for Jean,” Armin said loudly, changing the subject before Mikasa and Eren started yelling at each other. Mikasa was Eren’s adopted sister, and although they loved each other, they were always arguing. “I mean, at least Eren can stay with me. Jean has no friends here.”

Mikasa ignored Eren’s comment about Jean having no friends at all, and adjusted the red scarf around her neck. “He’s living on the streets? He’s more chance of being spotted by one of the Titans that way...” she said.

Armin gave a shrug. “I invited him to stay with us, but he refused. I think he’s afraid that if he’s with us he’ll put us in danger.”

“It’s not a surprise that’s what he thinks,” Eren said, pulling his hand from Armin’s grasp. “I mean, look what happened with his brother.”

***

Marco kicked the door closed behing them, turning on the lights in his apartment. 

He was thankful that Connie was away tonight. Marco loved Connie – he was his best friend. And he hated hiding things from him, but there was no way he was going to tell Connie about this. He had disapproved of Marco giving Jean coffee, for Christ’s sake – if he found out he was bringing him home and patching him up after fights he’d freak out.

He was also glad Sasha wasn’t here. Sasha wasn’t as uptight as Connie about Jean. Not that Connie was uptight or anything. Connie was always making mischief and poking fun, he just had more street sense than Marco and realised that a guy like Jean could be dangerous. Marco knew that Jean wasn’t dangerous, though. Connie hadn’t met the blonde; that was probably why he disapproved.

Ever since the first night, he never mentioned Jean to Connie. However, Marco kept Sasha updated about their meetings. Although he didn’t tell Sasha everything about their meetings, Sasha might as well have been with him for the most part. She didn’t think meeting Jean was a problem, in fact she thought it was cute. At the same time, Marco didn’t want her to meet Jean. She would probably get over excited as usual, and he didn’t want to scare Jean off. 

(There was also a part of Marco that didn’t want Sasha to meet Jean because Jean was his friend, a person only he got to see on a regular basis. The thought of Jean becoming friends with Connie and Sasha made him a little jealous).

“Home, sweet home,” Marco said, pulling Jean into what served as the living room. He sat the younger down on the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

Marco and Connie’s apartment was nice. It wasn’t huge, but it was bigger than what they would have on campus. There were two bedrooms. Marco’s was the bigger, because he had first choice. He’d lived alone for a few months before Connie moved in. There was a tiny bathroom, and the main room served as both a kitchen and a living room, with a couch and TV shoved into one corner.

The walls were a horrible shade of yellow, there were holes in the carpet and you could always hear the clanking of the elevator. But Marco loved the small apartment none the less.

Jean sank down on the couch. His shivering stopped as he adjusted to the warm temperature of the apartment.

Jean clenched his fists. He hated having to rely on people, but here he was: letting someone who was practically a stranger take care of him. He leaned forward so that his forehead rested on his knees. He took a deep breath. Surely Marco would have guessed that he was homeless at this stage.

There was nothing wrong with being homeless. Nine times out of ten, the people living on the streets were good people who had run into a stroke of bad luck. Jean was one of those people. Yet he had witnessed how people reacted when they learned about his situation: their noses would wrinkle, like there was a bad smell and they would make excuses to leave as soon as possible. They judged Jean, without even considering why he was living on the streets. 

To most of the people in this city, he was a nuisance. An eyesore. Someone who would surely cause trouble, unless shooed from their premises. 

Marco would probably think the same thing, right?

_But then why are you here?_

He heard Marco come back into the room. Jean closed his eyes and focused on the heat slowly coming back into his limbs.

Marco gently knelt down in front of Jean. He’d brought the small first aid kit and a towel from the bathroom and he placed them beside the blonde. He said or did nothing for a moment.

Marco chewed his lip. Jean seemed really roughed up, and not just physically. During their brief meetings, he would rarely talk about his past. He would occasionally mention friends or family, saying they were still in Karanese City, but apart from that Marco knew virtually nothing. He seemed alone though: alone in Trost. He had probably been through an awful lot.

Marco always had been a very caring person. And right now, his heart went out to Jean.

“Y’know,” he began, his voice soft. “I can’t patch you up when your face is hidden.”

Slowly, Jean lifted his head, leaning back into the couch. 

“I don’t get it,” he said, sounding almost irritated. “Why are you so nice? Most people would never help, they’d just ignore me. But you,” he stopped for a moment. “Most people look down on me, looking disgusted, as if I was a piece of trash. But ever since I’ve met you, you’ve been incredibly nice to me. You’ve talked to me, given me free coffees, you’ve even taken me home after I got into a fight. You smile with me, you laugh with me. You’re different from everyone else!” Jean’s voice caught a little. “I don’t understand why you can be so understanding when everyone else is judgemental.”

Marco was touched by that. It was the most he had heard Jean say in one go. He grabbed the towel and brought it up to Jean’s hair. He ignored the younger’s raised eyebrow, and began to towel-dry his hair. “You’ll get a cold if you don’t dry your hair,” he said. 

“And to answer your question: I don’t know. You’re a nice guy, anyone can see that.” Marco hesitated. “When I was a kid, my mother used to tell me that everyone had a mixture of goodness and badness inside of them. And to some people, one shows their good side. To someone else, they show their bad side. But no matter how many people show you their badness, you’ll always find someone who will show you their goodness.” Marco laughed, taking the towel away from Jean’s head.

He lifted his hand and paused for a moment, afraid to overstep his boundaries. But Marco swallowed those thoughts, and quickly ran a hand through Jean’s hair. Satisfied that the light locks were not dripping wet anymore, he threw the towel onto the ground beside him. “My mother used to always say stuff like that. I rarely listened to her though.”

Jean could feel his face growing warm; Marco was so close. And they kept sharing these casual little touches…usually the only “casual touches” Jean shared with others were the punches he and Jaeger exchanged. He gulped. 

“Your mom seems great,” he said, managing a small smile. “Does she live here in the city?”

Marco froze slightly. He bit his lip briefly before answering. “Actually, my mother’s dead.”

“Shit,” Jean blurted. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

There was nothing Jean would have liked more than for the ground to swallow him up.

Marco shook his head and gave him a smile. “It’s okay,” he said. “You couldn’t have known.”

Jean noticed that Marco’s smile seemed tighter than before, and it didn’t light up his eyes like it usually did. An uncomfortable moment lingered on.  
Eventually, Marco gestured to Jean’s face. “May I?” he asked.

Jean’s eyes widened momentarily. “What? Oh, right.” Jean, you need to calm down, he thought. “Yeah, sure.”

Marco’s brow furrowed in concentration. He gently tilted Jean’s chin, so that the light fell better on Jean’s face. “From what I can see,” he said, “there’s nothing serious. Just a few bruises, scratches and scrapes. There’s a bit of blood, but once they’re cleaned, they should be okay.” Jean grunted in response.

Marco reached into the little first aid kit, and brought out a packet of those special antiseptic wipes. Being careful not to put too much pressure on in case there were bruises, Marco gently cleaned the cuts and scrapes. None were too deep, for which he was thankful. Within a few minutes, Jean’s face was free of blood, and despite a little bruising and what Marco thought would be a black eye in the morning, he looked much better. 

Jean avoided his gaze. Marco was curious; he was dying to ask questions but he decided that could wait until later.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he said, packing away the antiseptic wipes back into the kit. 

“What? No, I couldn’t,” Jean blurted out, leaning forward. “You’ve done enough already.”

“Jean, listen. You can stay the night, the rain’s too heavy to be out in.”

Jean scowled, despite it not being Marco’s fault. “I’m used to it,” he said bitterly. “I’m at home in the rain at this stage.”

Marco crossed his arms. “The weather forecast says there’s going to be storm conditions during the night. You’re not staying out in that.”

“Marco, you don’t understand-”

“Jean, if you go out tonight you’re going to get soaked again. You might also end up in another fight! That would undo everything I’ve done tonight. So please, stay here? Besides…” Marco scratched the back of his neck. “My roommate’s away tonight…and I-I don’t like being alone at night.” Marco blushed. It was something he hated admitting (he always hided his discomfort when Connie was there) but it was true. He had lived alone when he first moved in, but one of the reasons he asked Connie to move in was because he hated being alone at night. “You’d be doing me a favour.”

Marco knew he didn’t have much right to ask a stranger to stay the night with him. But as well as his unease, he could already hear the rain thundering outside. He couldn’t send Jean back out in that.

Jean’s stony expression eased, and he nodded. “Fine.”

***

Jean was in the shower. Jean was in Marco’s shower.

And damn, it felt good. The water was hot. Jean used to dislike having the water very hot, but now he sighed in content as the hot water trickled down his back. He threw his head back, enjoying the steam and warmth of the shower, before grabbing the soap and scrub and beginning to scrub away furiously at the grime of the past few days.

Marco threw Jean’s clothes into the washing machine in the basement of the apartment block. The laundry room was empty right now, for which he was glad. He leaned back against the wall, and took a few deep breaths. 

Jean’s clothes – a pair of dark jeans, a long sleeved shirt and a worn hoodie – were well worn and slightly tattered. They were soaking even before Marco had put them into the wash, and there were little droplets of blood on them. They hardly looked warm at all.

Marco sighed, and left the laundry room. The clothes would be done soon, but he’d collect them after they had eaten.

Back in his apartment, he looked in his own wardrobe for something Jean could wear. Jean was a little smaller than him, but not so that it would make a huge difference in their clothes sizes. He had a few things that would fit him. He pulled out some things as he heard the water stop.

Going back into the living room/kitchen area, he saw Jean come out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Marco tried his best not to stare.

He tried his best, but he ended up taking a few glances at Jean’s chest anyway.

Jean looked like he used to be well built but lean. However, his stomach curved inwards a little more than was healthy, Marco noticed. He realised that he probably didn’t eat every well. He chewed his lip as he looked at Jean’s face.

Jean looked considerably better after his shower, his two-toned hair and face free of dirt and blood. However, parts of his face were beginning to turn black and blue already and he would definitely have a black eye in the morning. As well as that, there were dark circles under his eyes.

Marco’s eyes met Jean’s. They said nothing for a moment. Jean looked so tired.

Marco snapped to his senses. “Uhh,” he began, handing out the bundle of clothes. “Your stuff is in the wash, but you can borrow some of mine for tonight.”

Jean gave him a small smile and nodded his thanks. He went back into the bathroom to change. 

Marco took out his phone. “Hey Jean, do you like pizza?”

“Oh yeah, I like pizza,” came the reply from the bathroom.

“I’m going to order some,” Marco said. He and Connie ordered pizza a lot. Neither of them could cook, usually Sasha whipped up something for them. If she wasn’t there, they usually ate instant food or ordered fast food.

After telling his order to the girl on the other end of the line, Jean came back out.

Marco smiled. It was amazing what a shower and clean clothes could do to someone’s appearance.

Dang. Marco just realised that he thought Jean was attractive.

Shaking his head slightly, Marco pulled out a pack of band-aids. “Come here,” he said, gesturing for the blonde to come closer. “I was going to put these on earlier, but there was no point in getting them wet.”

Jean nodded, and tilted his head so Marco would have better access to it.

His few cuts had stopped bleeding, but it was best to keep them clean. Marco ended up sticking two band aids on his face and one on his hand.

They stood in silence for a moment, Marco still holding Jean’s hand.

Jean coughed. “Marco…” he began.

Marco dropped his hand, trying to look casual.

“Marco, you’ve no idea how big a deal this is for me,” Jean admitted. “It really does mean a lot. Thank you, thank you so much.” Marco’s gaze met Jean’s, and the younger boy really did look sincere. Jean gave Marco a smile – a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

Marco’s face broke out into a smile too. “Anytime Jean,” he said, bumping him on the shoulder. “What are friends for?”

***

Half an hour later, both boys were on the couch, watching some action movie on TV and eating pizza. Warm and clean with a full stomach, Jean couldn’t remember the last time he was this content. But he realised it wasn’t the food that was the highlight of the night. For the first time in God knew how long, Jean didn’t feel lonely.

He had distanced himself and lied to his family and friends, so they would stay safe. He knew barely anyone in this new city. Most of his interactions with other people involved them wrinkling their noses at them. There was always Armin, Mikasa and Jaeger…but they weren’t the same. While he and Eren were kind of, sort of friends (they were in this mess together, after all) Jean was too proud to let himself rely on him. Besides, Armin and Mikasa had to support Eren as well as themselves; they didn’t need Jean in the scene.  
Jean was proud. He knew it was a flaw, too. It was one of the things that landed him in this mess in the first place. Jean was too proud to let himself rely on others. He avoided it whenever he could.

Jean was tough, but he was also lonely. But sitting here, sharing a pepperoni pizza with Marco, talking and joking casually…

Jean didn’t feel lonely that night.

Once the pizza was finished, Marco slowly reached for the remote. He turned the TV off and turned to Jean.

His lips were dry. He swallowed hard. “I know it’s not really my business,” he said. “But could you tell me who you fought with tonight?”

Jean pressed himself back into the corner of the chair. Marco sat with his legs crossed. The main light was turned off and the only light came from a lamp in the corner. The artificial light painted Marco’s tanned skin and freckles in a warm yellow colour.

Marco had told Jean lots about himself. Jean felt as if he knew Marco for years, not a mere two weeks. But Marco knew virtually nothing about Jean…which must make it difficult for the taller boy to trust him.

Jean realised that it wasn’t so much a case about the fight; it was more about Marco asking Jean to let him in.

“I was fighting with my uh,” Jean faltered. Could he really describe Eren as his friend? “With my acquaintance…Eren Jaeger.”

“Eren…” Marco raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you mention him earlier? I thought you said he was your friend.”

Jean gave a small laugh, which was more like a grunt. “You don’t miss a thing, do you Freckles? Yeah, Eren is my friend I guess. Ever since we were kids, we’ve always fought over small, stupid things.”

Marco ran a hand through his hair. “Seriously? You did this to each other over something small?”

Jean grimaced. “We used to fight over small matters. Recently though? We’ve been disagreeing over something important over the last while,” he said. Jean wanted to be honest with Marco, he really did. But there were some things he just couldn’t tell him about. “But we’re both stubborn. So we’ve been trying to beat some sense into each other. It doesn’t work much, though.” Jean forced a little laugh.

Marco crossed his arms, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t fight,” he said, in the same tone of voice he used when he told Jean he couldn’t go back out to the streets that night. “I don’t care if you’re friends or not. I mean look at your eye! You got away with bruises tonight, but you could do worse to each other. Or the police might arrest you for fighting!”

Jean smiled, despite himself. “Your concern is touching,” he said.

The stern look in Marco’s eyes melted. He shook his head in mock annoyance. “Yeah, yeah.”

Jean looked up at him. “I’m being serious.”

Marco’s eyes met Jean’s, and they said nothing for a minute. Then they both started laughing.

Damn, it felt good to laugh again, Jean thought. Marco had a nice laugh. 

Jean feigned being serious. “Are you _laughing_ at me, Marco?”

Marco shook his head, but was still laughing. He tried to smother his laughter by covering his mouth with his hand.

Jean shook his head slowly. “I can’t _believe_ you would do this,” he said. Jean lunged across the couch, his hands darting to Marco’s sides. Marco burst out laughing again, louder and about an octave higher. He squirmed under Jean, trying to wriggle free of his grasp. “Jean!” he gasped between his laughs. “N- no! Agh, stop! Jean!” Despite his protests, he was wearing a big grin.

“Jesus Marco,” Jean said, refusing to stop. “Didn’t know you were so ticklish.”

Marco’s hand shot up to tickle the back of Jean’s neck. Jean let out a high pitched squeak, his shoulders rising quickly to try and defend.

However, that set Marco off again, this time he was howling with laughter. He would have rolled off the couch if Jean had not been there. Jean tried to look annoyed, but couldn’t help it. He started laughing himself. Marco’s laugh was contagious.

It was ten minutes before the two had calmed down, though occasionally they would make eye contact and start giggling again. 

“You sounded like a girl back there,” Marco teased.

Jean blushed. “Put the damn movie back on,” he said, trying to sound gruff, but he was smiling.

Marco grinned and turned the TV back on.

By the time the credits were rolling, both boys had fallen asleep on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so yeah last time i said id do weekly updates but my internets been fucking up majorly the last while so idk when im gonna be able to update again  
> anyways thanks so much for all of your lovely comments they make me smile so much u dont understand they make my day u_u  
> thanks for rreading guys! until next time  
> xoxo viola


	4. discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connect the dots.

When Marco woke up the next morning, he was still on the couch alone with a blanket wrapped around him.

He groggily sat up, rubbing his temples. “Jean?” he called out softly.

Marco stood up, looking around the room. He didn’t remember going to sleep last night. He remembered messing around with Jean, eating pizza and watching movies…they must have fallen asleep during one of the movies.

Jean must have left before Marco woke up. He frowned slightly, looking at the blanket.

The TV was turned off, the mess they made last night had been cleared, and the pizza boxes were in the bin. Despite himself, Marco smiled softly. 

There was a note scribbled on a newspaper left on the table. Marco scooped it up. Jean’s handwriting was small and scraggly and a little hard to read.

_marco_  
 _~~thanks so much for letting me stay.~~ _  
_~~ok ignore the first part. You’ve no idea who thankful I have~~ _  
_thanks for last night. i woke up early but i didn’t want to wake you. and i still have the clothes you let me borrow last night, no idea what you did with mine. i’ll bring them around to you sometime though._  
 _~~see you for coffee later?~~ _  
_j_

Marco grinned. The note was short and to the point, like Jean himself. He looked once more at the blanket that had been around him. Jean must have put it around him when he left in the morning. Marco was pleasantly surprised by that – he hadn’t expected Jean to be that thoughtful.

He sat back down in the sofa, thinking about what had happened last night. Jean had become a lot closer to him; at least, he had in Marco’s mind. He had opened himself up to the freckled boy and that conversation was much more meaningful than the rest they had shared put together.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Marco had fun. He wanted to spend more time with Jean, he wanted to help Jean, and he wanted to find out more about Jean.

 _Their friendship was slightly odd, though,_ Marco mused. It wasn’t like his relationship with Connie or Sasha or any of his other friends. He loved them, and cared about them a lot, but their relationship was light hearted, full of laughter and optimism. Even though they had their fights, their relationship wasn’t quite as…serious? Marco couldn’t think of a better word. He got the impression from Jean that he was the only one really making an effort with him, and that made everything seem a lot…bigger.

Marco had never patched a bleeding Connie up.

Marco shook his head. He was reading too deep into this – Jean and Connie were completely different people. Connie wasn’t the type to get into a fight – at least, not with his fists – whereas Jean – 

_**Shit, was that the time?!** _

The blanket slid from Marco’s hand as his gaze found the clock. He was going to be late if he didn’t get a move on. 

He then proceeded to have the quickest shower of his life.

***

Marco had ignored Nanaba’s wiggling eyebrows when he brought the bag to work. The bag with Jean’s clothes inside it.

Nanaba was one of the other employees at Hanji’s House. A few years older than Marco, Nanaba was a good worker, sweet and patient. But she also had a bit of a mischievous streak. Marco considered them friends, but not very close friends. He was in the back room putting on his apron when the older man had come in. The room was a small room in the back, plain and uninviting unlike the rest of the establishment, with bare concrete walls and a single bench pressed into one corner. A few lockers leaned against the wall, where employees 

“Ooh, what’s in the bag, Marco?” she had asked curiously. Marco usually didn’t even bring a bag to work. “Are you going out later? It’s Connie’s birthday, right?”

Marco shook his head. “We’re having a small party for Connie back at the apartment,” he said.

Nanaba sat on the bench, gesturing to the bag. “What’s this for, then?”

Marco gave Nanaba a sidelong glance. “A friend stayed over at my place last night. He forgot some of his stuff.”

Nanaba reached over and pulled the zip on the bag down slightly. “Clothes? He left clothes at your house?” She smirked slightly. “Well, well. Did our Marco Bodt finally get laid?”

“Nanaba!” Marco hissed, feeling his face go red. “I said a friend! Not…anything like that.”

Nanaba was too busy laughing at Marco’s red face to do anything else.

***

“Sorry for leaving so early,” Jean said, clutching his coffee cup. 

“It’s no problem,” Marco said. For the first time, what seemed like an awkward silence settled between them.

Jean cleared his throat. “I better go,” he said, somewhat gruffly.

Marco nodded, slightly disappointed. Had he done something wrong last night?

Jean looked at him, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking. “Thanks for bringing the clothes back,” he said, looking at the ground again. “I’ll give your ones back to you soon.”

Marco nodded unsure of what to say. He had thought last night had gone well. He thought they would be closer, better friends now. Real friends. But Jean seemed distant now. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jean said. “Right?” Despite him sounding gruff earlier, was that a twinge of hope Marco could hear in his voice?

Marco smiled, and nodded. “Right!”

Jean gave him a smile before leaving. Marco began to head home. Connie’s party would be in a few hours.

He looked up at the sky, and realized that for the first time in a few weeks, it was clear of any clouds.

***

“Happy birthday Connie!” everyone roared. Connie jumped, taken aback. He hadn't had time to react before Sasha had thrown her arms around him.

Marco smiled, listening to their laughter. Their apartment wasn’t big enough to have a big party, but there was room for all of their friends. Ymir and Christa went up to Connie, Ymir smirking and throwing an arm around his neck while Christa smiled sweetly and gave him a present. Christa and Sasha were friends for a long time. Although they were taking different courses in college (Christa was studying something in fashion, Marco wasn’t sure exactly what) they both went to a cooking class in high school. When Sasha became friends with Christa, she was then introduced into her slightly intimidating girlfriend, Ymir. Through Sasha Marco and Connie were introduced.

In the corner, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie were talking. Reiner and Annie were police cadets, while Bertholdt was an apprentice engineer. Although the trio looked intimidating, they were good people at heart, and Marco was close with them (although truthfully, he was still a little bit scared of Annie. That girl could floor guys twice her size).

Mina and Dazz and Nack were there too, but Marco couldn’t spot Armin or Mikasa anywhere…

The door swung open and, speak of the devil, Armin poked a head in. With a sheepish smile, he came in. “Sorry we’re late,” he said, going over to greet Connie. Mikasa and another boy – Marco didn’t know him – came over to Marco.

“Hey,” Mikasa said with a smile. “This is my brother,” she said. “I know its Connie’s party, but he’s staying with me and I didn’t want to leave him alone. I hope you don’t mind me bringing him along.”

Marco gave a wide smile and shook his head. “Of course not!” he said. “The more the merrier, right?”

He turned to the boy and shook his hand. He had nice eyes, an uncommon vibrant green. He was attractive, Marco noticed, but he had a dark bruise just above his eye. “Marco Bott, pleasure to meet you.”

The boy smiled. “Eren Jaeger, and likewise.”

Marco’s smile froze slightly.

_“Yeah. My friend Eren and I came here a few months ago. Haven’t really been in contact with my old friends much. Haven’t seen Eren that much either.”_

_“I was fighting with my uh,” Jean faltered. Could he really describe Eren as his friend? “With my acquaintance…Eren Jaeger.”_

***

Marco waited about an hour before approaching Mikasa. 

Reiner had been telling him and Connie a story when he saw Mikasa go over to the table to pour herself a drink. Marco excused himself and walked up. “Hey,” he said, reaching for another glass.

Mikasa took a gulp of her drink. “Hi.”

Marco gave her a sidelong glance. “Eren Jaeger…he hasn’t been here before, has he?”

Mikasa’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “He stayed in Karanese when I came to college here,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

Marco poured his drink, and didn’t speak for a moment. “No reason,” he said. “Just one of my friends said they knew an Eren Jaeger before.”

Mikasa’s eyes narrowed further. “Really?” she asked, her voice slightly sharper than it usually was when she was with Marco. “Who was it? Do I know them?”

Marco took a sip of his drink. “That’s what I wanted to ask you,” he admitted. “I wanted to ask you if you know a Jean Kirstein?”

Mikasa sighed loudly, but Marco got the feeling it was a sigh of relief. Her face softened and her eyes lost their suspicious look, but now she looked worried. “Only Jean? You scared me for a minute, Marco.” She trailed off and took another gulp of her drink. “Yeah. Yeah I know Jean Kirstein. But Marco, how much do _you_ know about him?”

Marco, taken aback by Mikasa’s question, stumbled over his words a bit, trying to figure out what the right answer would be.

Mikasa gave another sigh – this one weary – and downed her drink before placing her hand on Marco’s arm.

“We,” she said, “need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short compared to last week gomen
> 
> thanks so much to everyone for kudos/comments hugs and kisses for everyone
> 
> uhhh feel free to give any criticism and whatnot
> 
> until ~~~next week


	5. development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean (briefly) doubts himself and Marco.

Jean didn’t see Marco for a week after that. Whenever he went to the coffee shop, he couldn’t see Marco. Jean double checked the times, making sure he was arriving at the end of Marco’s shifts. Even though he was always on time, there was no sign of the other boy.

Jean didn’t know that Marco had been avoiding him by leaving the coffee shop early or staying later than he was meant to.

After a few days Jean got the message. Marco was avoiding him. 

Jean would have been lying if he had said he didn’t expect something like this to happen. He loved spending time with Marco, but there was always a little voice in the back of his head telling him to watch what he said, in case he scared his only friend off.

It stung though. Marco knew he was homeless, Marco knew that he got into fights and even though Marco didn’t know his history, he hadn’t judged Jean. He had been so sweet, so understanding. The last time he saw him, Marco promised to see him the following day.

But he never did, did he?

Jean was so confused. What happened that made Marco completely change his mind about Jean? Jean’s days were boring, the same never-ending cycle repeating itself. He spent his days on the streets, spoke to barely anybody apart from that nice brunette who gave him leftovers from her bakery at the end of the day (living off leftovers - Jean never pictured himself in that situation). He slept on the streets too, if the hostel for homeless people was full.

It was a week since he had last seen Marco. Jean had stopped turning up at the coffee shop two days ago. He was wandering aimlessly through the streets. It wasn’t raining, but it was quite cold. He pulled his hoodie closer around him and walked quicker in an effort to keep warm. If the weather continued to get cold he’d be in for a very tough winter.

His thoughts drifted to Marco again. He did that a lot. Maybe the boy had gotten sick? Maybe something had happened to him, and he wasn’t able to work? They were possibilities, but Jean had a sense of dread in his stomach that told him otherwise. Besides, it wasn’t like he could turn up at his door asking how he was.

_“Maybe you should go to the coffee shop to check. What if he was sick during the week?” he asked himself._

_“No. He was perfectly the last time you saw him…”_

Yet still, he began to walk in the direction of Hanji’s House coffee shop.

Jean sighed in defeat. He was so desperate for friendship and company that he kept going back, despite knowing that Marco had abandoned him. 

He really was pathetic.

***

“Jean!”

Jean barely registered the other figure before the tall body was upon him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Jean didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. Marco smelled of soap, coffee and cheap cologne.

Marco pulled away, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry about this week,” he said. “I had a bit of a crisis and wasn’t able to meet up with you after work.”

Jean was feeling a confused mix of feelings. Happiness, because Marco had been here, Marco had been waiting for him, Marco had hugged him!

But another part of him registered the fact that Marco had been at work, even though he never saw the taller boy. His suspicions were right: Marco had been avoiding him.

Marco fidgeted, looking at Jean. His eyes ran up and down his figure a few times. He was looking at him differently; there was pity in his eyes. 

Jean understood that he was in a difficult situation. He understood that he needed all the help he could get. Marco had done a lot for him, and he really appreciated it. 

But now Marco was looking at him as if he was a helpless kicked puppy, left at the side of the road. Jean found himself getting irritated. His eyes narrowed. 

“Can we go for a walk?” the freckled boy asked.

Jean nodded. Marco immediately began walking in the direction of one of the parks in the city. Jean followed him, walking by his side.

“I still have those clothes you let me borrow,” Jean said after a few moments of silence.

“Keep them,” Marco said immediately. “I’ve plenty of other clothes, and besides, they look better on you.”

They arrived at the park. It was a nice place in the summer, but it seemed kind of lonely this time of year. Usually there would be big patches of green grass with large trees, all surrounding a beautiful fountain. Children would feed ducks, play on the nearby swing set and splash each other at the fountain, mothers would gossip on the benches, joggers and dog-walkers would pass by. But now, there were no children about. The grass seemed duller, the trees were bare. It was empty apart from the two young men. Marco took a seat down on one of the benches. Jean followed suit.

They didn’t speak for a few moments. It might have been Jean’s imagination, but the air between them felt heavy. He opened his mouth to say something, but Marco spoke first.

“It was my friend Connie’s birthday on Saturday,” he said, looking straight ahead at the deserted fountain. “Our friends Armin and Mikasa were at the party. Mikasa brought her brother, Eren, along.”

Jean took a slow deep breath. He looked at Marco, who was still looking ahead. They were sitting quite close together. Marco’s face was slightly flushed. Jean was close enough that their shoulders were brushing. He could see all of Marco’s freckles.

“I don’t know why you fought with Eren,” Marco said. “He seemed like a nice guy.”

This could not be happening. How did Marco end up being with Mikasa and Armin, one of the three people who knew why Jean was really in Trost?

“I wasn’t sure if it was the same Eren,” Marco said, digging his hands into his pockets. “So I asked Mikasa if she knew you. She said she did, and then she told me a few things about you.”

Jean could feel it coming on. Marco would say he didn’t want to see him again, or something along those lines.

Once Marco asked Mikasa about Jean, they had gone on a walk. Away from everyone else, she had told him a few things about Jean. When they had gotten back, Connie had teased them about being lovebirds, but Marco ignored him (Marco wasn’t even sure if he liked girls in the first place).

“What did she tell you?” Jean asked, his voice strained.

“She told me that you had a sad story, but it wasn’t hers to tell. But she told me that you got involved with the wrong people, and so did your brother.” Marco took a sidelong glance at Jean before re-focusing on the fountain. “She said you took quite a beating because your brother was involved with a bad crowd. She said because of your brother, you were dragged in too. Dragged in too deep, and the only way to get out was to disappear.”

Jean looked at his feet. His stomach churned as he tried to suppress the bad memories.

“Mikasa told me that you were worried your friends or family might be targeted, so you moved to this city. But she said that those people are still looking for you. She said you wouldn’t stay with them because you were afraid that if they found you, they might target them and that you’ve lived on the streets ever since.” Marco shifted so that he was facing Jean. “Is this true?”

Jean scowled, running a hand through his two-toned hair. “That night I stayed over at your house,” he said. “One of the reasons I didn’t want to stay was because I was afraid I would be seen by somebody and you’d be targeted.”

Marco winced. “So it’s true.”

“Yeah. It’s true.”

Marco sucked some air in through his teeth. Jean rubbed his forehead. He kept seeing things now, flashbacks of memories, of numerous blows hitting him in the face and stomach, of his brother in a hospital bed, of pulling the trigger and all of that _blood and-_

“I have a confession to make,” Marco said, interrupting his train of thoughts. This time his face was slightly different. He seemed…ashamed, almost. 

“When she told me that you had been involved in, uh, criminal activities, and that being with you could potentially put my life in danger if they ever find you, I decided to stop meeting with you.”

Jean visibly flinched. Marco felt the twist of guilt in his stomach. “I started avoiding you after my shift, thinking that you’d eventually stop coming and I wouldn’t see you anymore. But the truth is? I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I kept worrying about you, wondering if you got into another fight or if you had eaten at all that day. Mikasa told me you couldn’t go to the police, and that you were isolating yourself. I thought about how lonely you must be…and I realized that nobody should have to live like that.”  
Jean raised his eyes to meet Marco’s.

Marco had a determined look in eyes. “I realized that I’m your only friend. As your only friend, I need to look out for you, yeah? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was more pissed off that you told me nothing about this before.”

Jean felt something rush up in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt like a strange mixture of worry, relief and happiness all at the same time. He was sure Marco wanted to end their friendship, not declare it.

“I’ll be your best friend,” Marco said. “I’ll help you out when things get rough. I’ll have your back. I’ll never make judgments on you again,” he continued. “I don’t know what happened with you and those criminals, but I’m sure you’ll tell me when the time is right. Whether you’re a criminal or not, you’re the same Jean I knew beforehand, and I’m not going to leave just because I found out some new information about you.” 

Marco stood straight and proud, with a fiery look in his eyes. Jean wondered if he had ever seen anyone so attractive before.

“I’ll make sure you stay out of trouble. I’ll be there for you if you ever need me. I won’t doubt you again. And if those criminals come looking for you, I’ll protect you.”  
Jean, being Jean, let out a snarky hoot. “Yeah right. You probably wouldn’t be able to protect me from a fly.”

Marco laughed loudly. “Whatever Jean. But seriously. I’m here for you, okay?”

Jean stood up but Marco was still taller than him. He challenged him with his eyes. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked. He didn’t want to drive Marco away, but he wanted to make sure Marco knew exactly what he would be like as his friend.

“What do you mean?” Marco’s smile faltered slightly.

“I’m a jerk,” Jean said. “I’m blunt, and I’m selfish. Nine times out of ten if I do something, it’s for my own benefit. I’m brash and reckless and I get angry easily. Heck, I’m on the run. But worst of all, I know all of my flaws but I don’t try to change. Do you really want to put up with that?”

Marco tilted his head. “Good side or bad, I stand by what I said.”

Jean smiled. A big smile, a genuine smile. “Then I accept your offer of friendship.”

“What about you, though?” Marco asked, a teasing smile working its way onto his face.

“Hah?”

“I’m over protective,” Marco said. “I’ll worry about you and I’ll nag you. A lot. And I’ll probably get really jealous, too. Can you handle that?”

Jean grinned. “You’re on. But one thing: don’t look at me like you’re pitying me.”

“Fine. But if this is going to work, you need to be honest with me. I’d like you to tell me what really happened. Not now, but when the time is right, I’d like you to tell me what happened. Deal?”

Jean hesitated for a moment. “Deal.”

For the second time that day, Marco wrapped his arms around Jean. Jean was still for a moment before he wrapped his arms around the older boy’s waist. Marco’s arms were strong and secure. His scent filled Jean’s nostrils. He felt safe.

That night, when he ran into Eren, he didn’t fight as hard as he usually did. His heart wasn’t in it. Usually when he ended up in a fight with Eren, he ended up letting lose all of his anger. Now? After the time he spent with Marco, he didn’t have half as much anger as he did.

***

Connie had run into Mikasa on her way home from work. They were both going in the same direction, so they walked together, chatting amiably. That was, until Mikasa’s phone rang.

“Excuse me,” she said to Connie, reaching for her phone while Connie made “go ahead” gestures.

“Hey, Armin,” she greeted fondly. Her soft expression melted away immediately. “What?” she said sharply. “He’s fighting? That boy…is it Jean? For fucks sake…where are they? I’ll be right there.” Mikasa hung up and without another word to Connie, began to sprint away.

Connie had grasped the seriousness of the conversation. Although Connie was a joker whose mind wasn’t the sharpest. But Connie was street-smart – and he knew that you should never run into a fight alone. Cursing, he followed Mikasa.

“Wait up!” he called. They ran down the street, turned a few corners and then Mikasa ran into an alley. Connie followed, beginning to breathe hard.

He turned to see two boys fighting. One he recognized: Eren, Mikasa’s brother. Connie didn’t know him very well, but they immediately hit it off at his party. He seemed like a great guy. He didn’t know the other dude though.

Eren said something and threw himself at the taller guy, who promptly kicked him in the ribs. Eren fell back but leapt straight up again, swinging a punch that connected with the other guy’s cheek.

“Break it up!” Connie yelled. He didn’t want to see Eren get hurt.

“Eren! Jean!” Mikasa said sharply. Both boys, only now realizing her presence, turned around.

“What the hell?” Mikasa asked. “Eren, I told you to stop going looking for fights.”

Eren said nothing. Connie was amazed that the two would immediately stop their fight with a word from Mikasa. His coming along was completely unnecessary.

Mikasa turned to the taller guy. “Jean, I though you would know better,” she said coldly.

“Jean” shrugged his shoulders. “Jaeger started it,” he said.

Jean then noticed Connie standing behind Mikasa. “Who’re you?” he asked, frowning.

“I could ask the same question!” the smaller retorted.

“Wait,” Mikasa interrupted. “You guys don’t know each other?”

“Should we?” Connie asked.

Mikasa looked slightly confused. “Jean is Marco’s friend,” she said. She turned to Jean. “Don’t you two meet for coffee like, every day?”

Connie looked from Mikasa to Jean, to Mikasa again.

He remembered Marco’s story about “coffee guy.”

Connie wasn’t smart in the sense that gave you good grades. He was pretty mischievous and loved to make fun of everything. But he was also street smart and knew when to be serious. And he knew that meeting everyday with somebody you just met in the street one day was not a good idea.

Marco wouldn’t have been that trusting to that would he? He wouldn't be that idiotic.

Would he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holla  
> this was hella sappy oH WEll
> 
> ok so it was jeanmarco week this week how chill was that  
> i tried to do a fic for each of the prompts (i failed miserably i only did like three) BUT I'm probably gonna do the ones i missed sometime during this week so keep an eye out for them!  
> also i've an idea for another multichapter jeanmarco in the works but idk when i'll post it 
> 
> so thanks for reading! and super huge thanks to everyone who left kudos and feedback like wow holla @ u  
> if u can pls let me know what you thought of this chapter!
> 
> have a great week!
> 
> catch me on tumblr: http://gaaradical.tumblr.com/


	6. epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco has a revelation.

“Mikasa!” Sasha whined, flopping down on the bed. “I’m hungry.”

Mikasa raised an eyebrow, looking away from her book to the brunette. “You’re always hungry.”

“I know,” Sasha moaned. “But now I’m starving!”

Mikasa frowned. “But you were working today,” she said. Sasha worked at her aunt’s bakery in the city. She usually only did a few hours during the week (and more on the weekends) but she always got some leftovers afterwards. The bakery baked everything fresh each day, so anything leftover (not that there was a lot, it was a popular place) at closing time was either thrown out or given to Sasha.

Usually, it was the latter.

Mikasa frowned slightly. Now that she thought of it, Sasha hadn’t been bringing home leftover bread or slightly burnt cakes in the last while. She turned to Sasha. “Did the bakery stop letting you take home leftovers?” she asked.

“Uhh,” Sasha muttered, her hand reaching up to fiddle with her bangs. Mikasa knew Sasha well, and she knew that this was a nervous habit of hers – one she always did when she was lying or trying to change the subject. “Kinda?” she sounded unsure.

Mikasa just smiled softly and turned back to her work. Her curiosity had been piqued, but she had studying to do. She would get back to it later. “Why don’t you order some pizza? I’m starving.”

Sasha’s hands left her hair to clap together. “Yes! Mm, that’s a great idea Mikasa! What do you want? We should totally get a large one! With pepperoni and with maybe some ham…and extra cheese! And some pineapple and…”

Mikasa tuned Sasha’s babbling out as she refocused on her studies.

***

Connie rubbed his temples. “Listen man,” he said. “I think this is crazy. I mean, you start talking to some guy you meet on the streets. You meet him every day and tell him all about yourself. After he gets into a fucking fist fight, you bring him home. Even after finding out he’s dangerous, you still continue to meet with him.” Connie didn’t even sound annoyed, just concerned.

Connie shook his head. “I think you’re crazy. But man, you’re my best friend. And I know when you’ve made your mind. I don’t want to like, I don’t know, cause a rift in our friendship because of this guy. I just want you to be careful, okay?”

Marco smiled. When Connie had confronted him about Jean, he had been sure things wouldn’t end well. Connie rarely got worked up about anything, but he always was protective of his friends. And Marco knew Connie had a lot more, uh, street sense than he did.

While Marco came from a very wealthy family, Connie came from a small village just outside the city. He was the oldest of many siblings, while Marco was an only child. Connie had to work extremely hard for his scholarship, while Marco’s father paid all of his bills. Marco had lived a sheltered life in his upper-class estate out of the city. He hadn’t really gotten much exposure to city life until he came to college.

Marco knew Connie was only looking out for him, and he appreciated it. 

“Thanks,” he said, tossing his head so his bangs went out of his eyes. “But you can relax. It sounds crazy, but I know that being friends with Jean is…a good thing.”

Connie scoffed. “Yeah, you’re right. That does sound crazy.”

Marco chuckled softly. “I don’t know man,” he said. “I’ve only known him for a few weeks, but I feel as if I’ve known him for longer. Much longer. It feels as if we’ve always known each other, you know? It’s like…like we have some sort of mutual understanding. A special connection. And to just abandon him would be like breaking that connection, which is definitely the wrong thing to do.” Marco sighed. “I really don’t know how to explain it.”

Connie barked a laugh. “Dude, if you have a crush on him just say so. Leave all the “star-crossed lovers” bullshit out.”

Marco nearly choked on his own spit. “W-what?” he asked, his blood rushing.

Connie raised an eyebrow. “Oh come on.”

Marco’s brow wrinkled. Of course he didn’t have a crush on Jean. Marco had decided to spend the year focusing on work and his studies; he didn’t want a big romance to distract him. Besides, the romance side of his life hadn’t been that thrilling beforehand anyway. 

No. Jean was his friend. He had promised to be his friend; a good friend. He promised to look out for Jean and be there for him. Because that’s what friends did, right? And so what if he made an effort to meet up with him every day. It had gotten to the stage where he would meet with Jean even on the days he didn’t have work. But that was cool. They were friends. There were plenty of people who met up with their friends on a daily basis. And well, they didn’t go to the same Uni or anything, so it wasn’t like he saw him during his day.

And so what if Marco often found his thoughts drifting to the younger boy during his day? He was being a good friend. Jean was living it rough, and was still in some sort of danger. Marco had a right to worry. And yeah, he wanted to find out everything about Jean. He wanted to find out about Jean’s past, but that was only natural. He did have some sort of criminal history, who wouldn’t be curious? Even if that wasn’t the only thing he wanted to know. Marco didn’t know much about Jean, so it was only natural he’d want to learn about his habits and traits, right? Yeah. Completely natural.

Wait.

Was it really natural to be this concerned over a boy he had barely met? Was it natural to feel this strongly about someone he barely knew? Marco had already picked up on so many of Jean’s little habits. Like how most of the time, Jean’s smile would be a small cocky smirk. Or how Jean tended to run his fingers through the lighter part of his two toned hair. Or how Jean would bite his lip when thinking of something to say. Or how Jean would always laugh loudly, showing all of his teeth. Or how Jean stood – despite looking as if life had swallowed him, chewed him up and spat him back out, he would always have a strong, proud stance. But seriously, who noticed these type of things with someone they didn’t know very well?

Marco just didn’t miss a thing when it came to Jean.

He didn’t miss a goddamn thing.

Marco thought back to what he had said to Connie. Something about him and Jean having a special connection? Connie and Sasha were Marco’s best friends, they had been for years. They knew everything about each other. But with Jean, it was different. It was different then friendship. Marco’s face didn’t slowly break into a smile every time he saw Connie. His mood didn’t necessarily lift when he was with Sasha.

His friendship with Connie and Sasha was different than his friendship with Marco for a simple reason, he realized. He _did_ have a crush on Jean.

“Shit,” Marco said, bringing his palm up to his face.

Connie yawned. “I have studying to do,” he said. “I’ll leave you and your epiphany alone.”

Connie left the room, and Marco groaned, running his hands through his hair. Had it really been that long since he had a crush that he needed Connie to spell it out for him?

Well, go figure. Marco’s love life had never been very eventful. In high school he had crushes on a few boys, and for a while he considered himself gay. He’d had a few boyfriends, but they had never worked out. He never really felt anything particularly special with them, and that left him confused. Had just been a phase?  
Deciding that he would have plenty of time to find out more about himself and his sexual orientation after he got his degree, Marco tried to put romance to the back of his mind.

Now though, he wondered. Maybe it has just been because of the particular boys he had went out with when he was a teen. His first boyfriend has been a guy called Mylius. It had started out fun, but after a few weeks the novelty began to wear off, and the two drifted apart.

Then there had been Nack. They were good friends in high school and had tried the whole boyfriends thing, but quickly realized they were better off as friend. They ended the relationship on a good term though, and they were still friends.

Marco shook his head. There had been a few others, but thinking hard, he couldn’t recall being as excited to see them as he was when he got to see Jean at the end of his shifts.

It was painstakingly obvious in hindsight. He had let Jean become such a big part of his life, he had let Jean worm his way in, he trusted Jean without question because he was head over heels for him. There was something about Jean that made him trustworthy in Marco’s eyes, despite not knowing him very well when they first started meeting up.  
Marco sighed heavily. He still didn’t know much about Jean, and one of the things he didn’t know was his sexual orientation. Chances were that Jean didn’t like guys. That would be just Marco’s luck.

***

Sasha usually got the leftovers from work at the end of her shifts. However, that changed a night two months ago.

She had been on her way home with her bag full of slightly-stale bread (which according to Sasha, was still delicious) when she saw him. A scruffy guy picking through the bins, looking for something to eat.

Sasha loved food. A lot. She had an insatiable hunger, an unrivaled passion for food. And her favorite thing apart from enjoying food was making others enjoy food.

She saw this guy picking through the rubbish, and Sasha’s heart bled. Sasha was as kind as she was hungry.

And so she had looked at her leftovers, and back at the guy in front of picking through the trashcans. He had his back to her. Sasha’s stomach growled.

And then, history was made: Sasha Braus willingly gave up her food.

She walked up to guy, tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around, nearly falling over the trash can. Without saying a word, she shoved the bag of leftovers into his arms and ran away before she had a chance to change her mind.

A cycle became of this. Most nights she would end up giving her leftovers to this one guy. She didn’t know his name, she never spoke to him. The only words they exchanged were the “thank you”s he whispered to her.

She never told Connie or Marco about it – she knew Connie would flip out. However, weeks later, when Marco told her the story about the “coffee guy” she smiled. Marco was in the same situation as she was. Well. Nearly the same situation.

Inspired by the efforts Marco was making, she decided to help her bread guy a little more. Occasionally she would manage to slip in a slice of cake, or one of those hot savory pies her aunt made. 

Sasha felt horrible, giving up her food. But strangely, at the same time, it made her feel good about herself. She liked to think that she was helping someone, someone who needed help. And despite the rumbling in her belly, she would go home with a smile on her face.

She never would have guessed, that her “bread guy” was the same person as Marco’s “coffee guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoo  
> slightly late update but only late by 24 hrs so hahaha  
> sashas literally peeta mellark in this oops
> 
> ok so my friend kath suggested that i make a tumblr tag for this but??? i dont think there would be anything in it tbh  
> so im just throwing the thought out there to see what u guys think
> 
> so yeah if u can pls leave feedback! thanks!
> 
>  
> 
> [find me @ tumblr dot com](http://gaaradical.tumblr.com/)


	7. suffocating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get dark.

“I want you two to meet Jean.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “What?” she shrieked, standing up. “Meet _your_ coffee guy?!”

Marco frowned a little as a light blush dusted his cheekbones. “Sasha,” he said. “First of all, his name is Jean. Second: he’s not _my_ coffee guy. He’s not _my_ anything.”

Marco saw Connie rolling his eyes. “Why do you want us to meet him all of a sudden?” he asked.

“Because,” Marco explained. “You two are my friends. He’s my friend too. I’d like for you to know each other.”

“Oh, really?” Sasha said, a teasing edge audible in her voice. “Just your friend? Then why are you blushing?”

Marco turned away, pretending to busy himself making tea. “Shut up, Sasha,” he said. “He’s my friend.”

“ _Sure._ ”

Connie rolled his eyes again.

Really? Marco wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it. He liked being the only one who knew about Jean. It was like his relationship with Jean was something special and unique that they shared. He was obviously important to the other male, but there was a part of Marco was afraid that if Jean became buddies with all of his other friends, the importance and significance of their relationship would lessen.

It wasn’t right, Marco knew that. It wasn’t right at all to think of Jean like that – it was almost like he was being possessive. He couldn’t help it though. Marco thought of the way Jean’s face would light up every time he saw him. He didn’t suddenly smile dramatically whenever they met, no; it was more subtle. His expression – which was usually stony and serious, would soften when he saw Marco. His eyes would get a little warmer and crinkle at the sides, his lips would turn upwards into a rugged half-smile, his stance would loosen and he would relax a little. Despite how much he felt bad for Jean because he was alone, the thought that the little moments like that were saved for him gave him a little thrill.

What about the way Jean would look at him? If anything, Jean was an open book, and Marco could read him easily. When Jean was with him, he could tell that he was content. He looked lonely – that much was obvious. From the way he stood to the dejected look in his eyes, it was clear he was lonely. But that look faded when he was with Marco. When he was with Marco he seemed warmer. Happier. There was always gratitude in there too.

Or what about the feeling of Jean’s arms around him? The sensation of having his strong arms wrapped around his waist, surrounded by his warmth and strength and presence? Marco didn’t want Jean to share that with anyone else.

Marco sighed deeply. What was he doing? He told Jean he’d be there for him as a friend, but would he hold him back by being possessive? Jean craved contact with others, it was clear. He was alone most of the time, the loneliness must be driving him crazy. And Marco was taking advantage of that, knowing that Jean, to a certain extent, needed him.

He sighed again. He was a terrible friend.

He guessed the reason he was suddenly inviting him over to meet Connie and Sasha was, well, he didn’t want Connie to be suspicious of him. Even if they weren’t friends, at least Connie would have met him properly, right? As for Sasha he guessed that once she met him, she would give this whole “coffee guy” thing a rest.

“Uh, earth to Marco? You making that tea or not?” Sasha waved a hand in front of his face. Marco blinked.

“O-oh, yeah, right. Sorry, I was just distracted.”

Sasha giggled. “Do you tune out all of the time at the coffee shop too?”

“Of course not!” he said. “So, you guys free for dinner tomorrow?”

***

“So, you free for dinner tomorrow?”

Jean choked a little on his coffee. Coughing, he thumped on his chest. “Sorry, what?”

Marco smiled, though it was a little tight. “I’m inviting you for dinner at my place tomorrow. With Connie and Sasha. Sasha’s cooking.”

Jean was a little stunned. He’d made it clear the risks of being friends with Marco, and Marco hadn’t cared. But with his other friends? What would they think of the situation? Jean frowned a little. “I don’t know Marco,” he said. “Isn’t Connie the one who found me fighting with Eren?”

Marco clicked his tongue. “Well, yeah, but he’s willing to give you a chance!” He tugged on Jean’s arm. “You have to come,” he said. “Sasha’s cooking is great. And because she doesn’t know what you like, she’s making a whole ton of food. It’ll go to waste if there are only three of us!”

Jean hesitated. Food was pretty scarce, aside from the girl at the bakery who gave him the leftovers. Before Jean had arrived in the city, he had been strong and fit. Now though? Every time he saw his reflection his bones seemed more prominent. His clothes hung on his body and his stomach sloped inwards. He was losing some of his strength too; he could see it when he fought with Eren. And although the fights were only halfhearted – well, Jean was struggling to keep his ground. He’d always been a few inches taller than Eren, and stronger, more heavyset. But now Eren seemed to be stronger than him.

Jean wasn’t getting enough food; there was no way around that. How could he refuse Marco’s offer, when there would be some going to waste because of him?

“I’ll go,” he said finally. Marco beamed. “Thank you, Jean!” he said excitedly. Jean grinned a little despite himself.

“Come to my apartment at seven tomorrow, yeah?” Marco said. Jean nodded. 

“Later!” Marco waved his goodbye.

“Later.” Jean’s farewell was quieter. He sighed, watching Marco’s back.

***

The smell of food wafting around the apartment was mouthwatering. Sasha really had outdone herself this time, Marco thought, if the smell of the cooking food was anything to go by. 

Marco’s watch read 18:55. He gulped a little. Being honest with himself, Marco was nervous. He was worried that Jean would end up on the wrong foot with Connie, or piss off Sasha, or just seem like some sort of thug or criminal in front of them. 

He was more nervous, however, about how his friends would act in front of Jean. Connie knew that Marco was smitten, and Sasha was probably on the right track to guessing it, judging from the teasing the previous day. What if they said something to Jean? What if they would say really embarrassing things to Jean about Marco?

Marco wasn’t ready to have his feelings out in the open. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be.

“Please be nice,” he said to Connie. Sasha was in the kitchen area, making a loud fuss over her rice.

Connie shrugged in response. “I’m not one to pick a fight,” he said. “So I won’t. But he’s a stranger you picked off the street dude, I’m not gonna trust him just yet.”

There was a knock on the door. “Uh, Marco? You in there?” came Jean’s voice. He was unmistakably nervous, but his voice alone managed to soothe Marco’s own nerves.

“Coming!” he said, opening the door.

Jean stood there, soaking wet. Marco hadn’t realized it had been raining. He pulled Jean in. “You’re soaking!”

Jean shrugged, the little half-smile that drove Marco crazy playing on his lips. “I’m used to it,” he said.

Marco turned to Connie, partially to hide his blush from Jean. “Uh, right! Connie this is Jean, but you’ve already met, right?”

Jean smiled again but it was a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think we had the best start, did we?” he asked, putting out his hand. “Jean.”

Connie looked at him before giving his own smile. “Connie.” They shook hands, and Marco felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. At least they were being civil.  
“I’ll be out in a second!” came a voice from the kitchen. Jean quirked an eyebrow. “Sasha?” he mouthed. Marco nodded, before inspecting Jean. He was soaked through and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do but… “Take off your sweatshirt.”

Jean looked up. “Hah?”

“Take it off! I’ll put it on the heater to dry out and in the meantime you can borrow one of mine!”

“O-okay,” Jean said, pulling off his sweatshirt and giving it to Marco. He stood alone with Connie for an awkward moment before he returned with one of his own, handing it to him. Jean pulled it on and sighed softly in content. It was warm and soft and smelled of Marco.

The kitchen door opened. “Oh, hey there, my na- _you_!”

Jean turned around, and Marco’s eyes widened as he seemed to recognize her.

“No way,” Jean breathed. “It’s you!”

Sasha and Jean stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Marco and Connie exchanged a confused look.

Then Sasha, being Sasha, threw her arms around Jean’s neck in a tight hug. Jean jumped a little, and stumbled back to catch her weight, holding her waist to steady her. He looked at Marco over her shoulder, silently asking for help.

“Uh, Sasha?” Marco said. “Do you _know_ Jean or something?”

Sasha nodded and laughed, a little embarrassed as she pulled away. “A little…sort of, I guess.”

Marco met Connie’s eyes. He looked just as confused as Marco did. Marco looked at Jean, raising an eyebrow. How come Jean knew Sasha but never told him? When he met Jean’s  
gaze he just shrugged.

“Well,” Sasha tilted her head. “We knew each other without knowing who the other really was, if that makes sense.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Connie said. Sasha giggled a little, but it was undeniably nervous.

“Okay, don’t get mad! So I met Jean at work ages ago, before you and Marco met. Uh, I could tell Jean was well,” Sasha paused, trying to find the right words. “Well, he always looked hungry so I gave him some leftovers from the bakery! I didn’t tell you guys though, because I thought you’d get mad.” She giggled again, but she seemed relieved now that she had told them. “We never really talked though, and who would have imagined he was Marco’s coffee guy!”

Marco hoped Sasha wouldn’t say much about the whole coffee guy thing. He felt slightly sick in his stomach as he looked at Jean. He was looking at Sasha smiling almost fondly at her. Marco had thought that he was doing something special for Jean, but now? He had given Jean a free coffee. Sasha had given him food, a way to survive.

“Anyway, you guys sit down! The food is ready.” She hit Jean playfully on the shoulder. “I finally have a chance to actually feed you properly!” She zoomed back over to her pots.

Jean was smiling as he met Marco’s eye. “Small world, huh?”

Marco tried to smile himself. “Yeah.” The three of them sat down at the small table and Sasha quickly brought over a few different dishes.

The food was delicious, but Marco had lost his appetite. He couldn’t help but feel jealous at the way Jean and Sasha were talking. It was Sasha doing most of it, suggesting different things for Jean to try, patting his shoulder, leaning over to pass the butter. Jean, for once, was full of compliments at the food. From the looks of things, he hadn’t eaten this much in a while.

Sasha was like this with everyone; she always was rather touchy-feely with people, especially when she was excited. Marco knew this, but he still couldn’t meet her eye.

Conversation was dominated by Sasha. Connie barely said a word, and Marco tried to chip in a few times, but his heart wasn’t in it. Sasha began to talk about herself, and would often ask Jean different questions. However, after Jean kept trying to dodge them, she realized that he didn’t want to share much about himself. She told him different stories; stories about the three of them, mostly. Jean laughed along, adding comments here and there.

A few hours later, Jean stood up to leave. “It’s late,” he said. “I better get going.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. He knew Jean had nowhere else to go, but he also didn’t like staying with Marco. He knew he was anxious that staying would put him in danger. Marco felt his heart twinge. He stood up.

“See you tomorrow?”

Jean nodded, smiling his little half-smile.

“See you soon, Jean!” Sasha said, giving him a second hug. “Later, dude,” Connie said gruffly.

Once he was gone, Sasha busied herself with the cleanup. Marco went to help her, but she shook her head. 

“You seem tired or something Marco, are you sick?” she asked, filling the sink with hot water. “Whatever, I can do this myself. You and Connie sit down, okay?”

Marco smiled, despite himself. It was hard to resent her. He spotted Jean’s sweatshirt still on the heater. He had left still wearing Marco’s. He picked it up, it was dry now.

He went into his bedroom, hearing Connie and Sasha begin to talk. Maybe it was a good thing Jean had his sweatshirt, Marco thought. This one was worn and frayed and couldn’t be very warm. Despite this, after a moment’s hesitation Marco pulled it on. 

***

Sasha stayed for a few more hours, messing and joking around with Connie and Marco. There was a little bit of tension between them, but she tried her best to ignore it. It was late when she decided to head home; nearly midnight.

“Connie, will you walk me to the bus stop?” she asked. Connie nodded, smiling a little.

Beaming, she turned. “Wait here, I need to pee first!” she said, running to the bathroom. Connie made a face. 

“Didn’t need to tell me that!” he called after her. Once she was gone, he turned to Marco.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, scowling. Connie was usually so cheerful and mischievous that a scowl looked completely out of place on his face.

“What was what?” Marco asked.

“Her. And Jean. Does she-”

“I don’t know, Connie,” Marco said, sighing. He pulled Jean’s sweatshirt around him tighter.

Connie sighed, laughing bitterly. “I’m starting to wish you never invited him over,” he said. “In the course of one night, I might’ve just lost the girl I like and you might’ve just lost the guy you like.”

Marco looked up sharply. “You like Sasha?”

Connie looked away, blushing slightly. “So? You like Jean!”

Marco sighed again, running his hand through his hair. “We don’t know anything,” he said. “Sasha’s like that with a lot of people.”

Connie nodded. “I know but…look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t jealous.”

Marco looked at his hands. “I can’t.”

“Okay, I’m ready!” Sasha called. Connie stood up, patting Marco’s shoulder before leaving.

***

“Connie, are you okay?” Sasha asked as they walked. The streets were quiet enough, which was surprising for a weekend night. Connie guessed that the rain was keeping people inside. Besides, this side of the city was a much quieter part. There were less bars and clubs than on the other side. They passed very few people as they walked to Sasha’s stop. The buses ran through the night, which was a blessing for the students attending the University. One of the stops was just a five minute walk away from the campus. 

Connie was very aware of Sasha beside him. They were sharing an umbrella to protect themselves from the rain and she was very close. “Me? Of course! I’m fine!” he said, laughing a little nervously, ignoring the way his heart rate sped up a little when she slid her arm around his.

Sasha looked at him, her eyes twinkling. Her smile wasn’t her usual goofy grin – it was softer, gentler. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” she said. Connie gulped.  
The sound of footsteps in front of him alerted Connie to somebody else’s presence. Looking away from Sasha, he saw another person standing in the street. He just stood there, arms crossed, a few meters ahead of them.

Footsteps from behind Connie told him that there was somebody behind them as well. He glanced around but couldn’t see anyone else on the street, apart from the two in front and behind him. The rain thundered down and he felt Sasha squeeze his arm.

And then the man in front was lunging for them and the next thing he knew, Connie was on the ground. Still holding the umbrella, he swung up to try and hit his attacker. The man snarled in annoyance, kicking it out of Connie’s hand and sending a kick to his stomach. Connie gasped in pain.

The other man had grabbed Sasha, pinning her arms behind her back. She tried to let out a scream but he clamped his hand over her mouth, dragging her back. Connie could see her struggling against the grip on her arms. He tried to yell her name but once he opened his mouth he got a second kick to the ribs. He yelped in pain.

He was pulled to his feet by one of the men, and then there was the cool press of metal against his throat. His breath hitched.

“Listen runt,” the raspy voice of the man behind him whispered in his ear. “We’re going for a walk. And you’re going to keep quiet, or we’ll mess up your girlfriend’s pretty face. Understood?”

Connie met Sasha’s eye. She was tearing up, and the man holding her had a knife to her throat too. “Understood?” the first man hissed again, pressing the tip of his blade harder into Connie’s skin. A small droplet of blood formed. He nodded slowly.

They were led into one of the nearby side streets. Connie’s heart was thumping even faster than it had before. They were in a real mess here, and he needed to think of a way to get out of it. The problem was that both men were bigger and heavier than him. Not to mention that they were armed. And if he didn’t co-operate, Sasha…no. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. 

In the dim light he could make out a third man. This one, unlike the other two, was dressed in a suit. He had lighter hair, cold eyes and looked a good few years older than them. He was leaning casually against the wall of one of the buildings, and didn’t seem to care about the rain. 

The side street smelled like rotten food. Connie didn’t want to die in the rain in a badly smelling street.

The light haired man smiled when he saw them. “Ah, good. You’re here,” he said, as if they were meeting up to go see a movie or something. Connie tried his best to hide his fear. The man chuckled. “Now, listen up. I don’t particularly want to hurt you, but if you refuse to co-operate I won’t hesitate to.”

“What do you want?” asked Sasha. Connie glanced at her. She looked terrified, but there was also a strange determination in her voice. Despite her voice shaking a little and the tears in her eyes, she refused to cry. Connie felt a rush of pride.

The man chuckled lightly. “Just information, sweetheart,” he said. “Tell me where he is.”

Where who was? Connie was confused. “Who?” he asked.

The man sighed. “Kirschtein, of course. Don’t play dumb now, we know for a fact that he was in your apartment earlier. Tell me where he is and I’ll let you both go.”

Connie bit his lip. Was he talking about Jean? He must be, nobody else was in his apartment. Kirschtein must be his last name. “I don’t know,” he admitted, feeling bad for actually going along with this. “He lives on the streets as far as I know.”

“Connie!” Sasha hissed. The man holding her pulled her hair sharply. The light haired man looked sharply at the one behind Sasha. Connie was beginning to realize: he was in charge. The other two were just thugs.

Maybe Connie shouldn’t so easily give up information on Jean, but then again…he had some sort of criminal background, right? These guys looking for him must be criminals too. They were dangerous, and Sasha’s safety was his priority right now.

The light haired man clicked his tongue impatiently. “Why was he at your apartment?”

“He’s a friend. Well, a friend of a friend.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

Connie hesitated. “None of your business.”

“When will you next see Kirschtein?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will your friend next see him?”

Connie hesitated. He knew the answer; at the end of his shift at the coffee shop, tomorrow. But if something was going to happen, Marco would be there. He didn’t want to endanger his best friend. “I don’t know,” he said, gritting his teeth.

An amused smile played on his lips. “You’re lying,” he said. He looked at the thug behind Sasha and gave him a nod. The thug tightened his grip on the knife in his hand. Connie’s eyes widened. 

“Wait!” he yelled. Sasha whimpered in fear.

Suddenly, a dark figure crashed into the thug, sending him and Sasha to the ground. The figure – Connie couldn’t see their face – immediately pulled Sasha up. Connie moved his head back sharply, taking the thug behind him by surprise. His head connected with his nose and he yelled. Connie took the chance to move away from him. He grabbed Sasha’s hand.

He could see the figure’s face now. “Jean?”

There was no mistaking it. Connie backed away a little. Oh, there was no doubt that the person in front of him was Jean, but he looked different. Anger and rage and fear were clearly visible on his face. He was looking at the light haired man with narrowed eyes, and stood in a defensive stance.

Jean moved faster than Connie would have thought. He went for the first thug, the one who had been restraining Connie. He tackled him around the waist, bringing them both down to the ground. He brought his fist down hard on his stomach. At this stage the second thug had climbed to his feet. Jean immediately leapt to his feet, kicking the knife out of the first’s hand.

The second thug swung his fist, having dropped his knife somewhere along the way. Jean ducked under it, but wasn’t able to dodge the kick to his side. Cursing, he fell. He quickly swung his leg around, sweeping the thug’s leg from under him. He fell beside him and Jean pushed himself up again, sending kicks into his ribs before sending a punch to his face. Connie heard a loud crack – the unmistakable sound of a broken nose.

Jean turned to the suited man. He was breathing heavily. “What are you doing here, Boris?”

The man – Boris – laughed. “Oh, don’t worry Jean! I’m not with the Titans anymore, but when I heard you were in the city I just had to pay you a visit.”

Jean scowled. Connie slid his hand in his pocket. His cell phone was there, if he could just get the chance to call the cops… “What do you mean you’re not with the Titans?” Jean asked. “Nobody just leaves the Titans.”

Boris smiled. “It is possible to leave the Titans, kid. I left on good terms. I didn’t leave with a huge debt or their blood on my hands.” Connie noticed Jean look away. He glanced at Sasha. She seemed just as lost as he was.

The two thugs had pulled themselves to their feet and flanked Boris.

“What do you want?” Jean demanded.

Boris didn’t smile this time. “You.” Jean took a step back.

Now would be a good time to intervene. “Listen up dudes,” Connie said, taking out his phone. “You guys,” he pointed to the three men. “Are gonna leave, or I’ll call the cops.”

It didn’t go how he planned, though. In fact, the three of them started laughing. Boris stepped forward. “Please,” he said. “Go ahead. Watch your friend be arrested too, though. Arrested and locked up for murder and a hundred other things. And even then, not even a cell could keep the Titans out.” The smile Boris wore was like a shark’s.

Connie glanced at Jean. “What does he mean, Jean?” he asked. “Murder…?”

Boris continued. “What about your other friend, Kirschtein? Jaeger? Is he here too?”

Eren? Jean had been fighting Eren the other night, Connie remembered.

Jean gritted his teeth, not looking at Connie. “Get out of here,” he said. “Go. Don’t call the cops, just get Sasha home then go home to Marco. Forget about this.”

Boris nodded. “If you don’t want anything to happen to you, you should listen to your friend.”

Connie looked at Jean. “Jean…” Sasha said uncertainly. 

“Go!” Jean yelled.

Connie squeezed Sasha’s hand, pulling her along as he backed away slowly out of the street. He didn’t take his eyes off of them until they were out of it. Immediately, he broke into a run, pulling Sasha with him. He needed to get her away from there as fast as possible.

“Connie!” she protested. “What about Jean? We can’t just leave him there with those thugs!”

“Sure we can,” Connie said. “He told us to leave, right?”

Connie brought his hand up to his neck. There was a tiny nick there, a nip from the knife. It was only bleeding a little. He had been practically unharmed, but his heart was still hammering.

They turned onto one of the busier streets.

“Hey, Connie, Sasha!” came a voice. Looking up Connie could see Armin and Eren waving across the street. He ignored them, continuing to the bus stop. When they got there, he half-sat, half-collapsed on the bench.

“Connie?”

“Yeah, Sash?”

“You’ll come with me on the bus, right?”

“Of course,” Connie said.

The adrenaline was fading from his system. His knees were shaking he noticed. Looking at Sasha, Connie could see that she was struggling to hold it together. “That was so scary,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Connie wrapped an arm around her, and Sasha rested her head against his shoulder. He was sure that she could feel him trembling. “What about Jean?” she asked.

Connie gulped. “Well, we can’t call the police,” he said. “They said he’d be locked up…and even if he was, the Titans would find him, whatever the fuck that means. It sounds bad though, so we’ll just have to trust that he can take them. I’m sure he can – did you see him fighting?”

Connie still had his doubts though. There were three of them, and only one Jean.

“Do…do you think what that Boris guy said is true? That Jean would be locked up for murder?”

“It’s hard to believe that someone like Jean killed somebody,” Sasha said. “But who knows? We don’t…we don’t really know much about him, do we?”

Connie felt bad for giving Marco such a hard time about Jean. He had, after all, jumped in to save them. “What about Eren?” he asked. “He mentioned something about him, didn’t he?”

“Maybe Mikasa will know,” Sasha said. “God, I’m still shaking. I can’t believe that actually happened.”

“Yeah,” Connie said. “Me neither.”

***

Jean was in trouble. 

He had been walking through the streets, back to Marco’s. Once he had realized that he still was wearing his sweatshirt, he had headed to his apartment. On the way he had spotted Connie and Sasha, but didn’t stop. Soon enough though, he heard a muffled yelp. He had gone back to the street where he had spotted them, and they were gone.

He found them here, with Boris.

He had felt like he was going to get sick when he recognized him. Jean knew two things. One: there was a high chance of him dying that night. And two: if he survived, he would have to leave the city. The thought of leaving Marco made him feel sicker than when he recognized Boris. He remembered Marco telling him that he would protect Jean. _Sorry Marco, you can’t protect me from monsters like these_.

Now that Connie and Sasha were gone, Boris smiled wider. “Good, now it’s like a chat among old friends,” he had said.

“Get rid of them,” Jean had said, gesturing at the two thugs flanking him. “Then it’ll be a good one-on-one discussion between old buddies, yeah?”

Boris chuckled. He nodded to the two thugs and they both charged together. Had there been one, Jean would have made it. But there were two, and that was what made it tricky. The first rugby tackled him to the ground. He kicked him off – if he stayed on the ground, he would lose. But as he struggled to his feet, he received a punch to the jaw from the second. Jean cursed, stumbling back. 

The first guy grabbed at his arm, ducking under it as he punched him in the stomach. The breath was torn from Jean’s lungs and he blindly lashed out with his elbow. But then the second kicked the back of his knees and he fell in a heap. He barely had time to breathe before a booted foot was kicking his ribs, once, twice, three times, four times. Jean folded around himself, trying to protect his ribs.

He was pulled up by his hair. He yelled profanities, lashing out at him, but then both arms were being held down. The two thugs forced him to his knees, each holding one of his arms.

Blood trickled in his mouth; Jean had lost a tooth during the punch to his jaw. There was a sharp pain in his ribs, and he was panting, trying to fill his lungs with air.

Boris smiled down at him. From his sleeve, he drew a slim blade. Jean felt the panic rise in his stomach. He began to struggle, to try and free himself from the grasp of the two men, but it was futile.

Boris gently pressed the flat of the blade against Jean’s cheek. Jean shivered at the cold. It was still raining, but he hardly cared or noticed at this point. “The Titans want you back,” Boris said casually, pressing the tip of the blade into Jean’s cheek ever so lightly. “They want to find a way to bleed you dry, they want to find a way to get every cent you owe them.” With a light flick of his wrist, he made a long, shallow cut on Jean’s cheek. Jean winced as his skin was broken. He felt the blood trickle down his cheek and mix with rainwater before dripping onto Marco’s sweatshirt.

“And once they’ve gotten their money back, they’re going to kill you.” Jean’s breath hitched. “They’ll find a nasty way to kill you and draw it out slowly,” Boris continued, as if he was talking about the weather.

“I left on good terms, and as amusing as it would be to send you back to the Titans…” Boris trailed off, making a matching cut on Jean’s other cheek. “The man you killed? The man you killed while escaping the Titans was my brother.” For the first time, Boris’s smile faded. His face became hard set, an ugly snarl forming. Jean was trembling. He felt cold. Boris brought the blade away from his face, but clenched his fist. Pulling his arm back, he swung, punching Jean hard in the face. He let out a cry, his head rocking back.

“Because of that, I’m going to kill you myself,” Boris hissed.

***

Marco heard the knock on the door. “Connie?” he called. Maybe he forgot his keys. He looked through the peephole and to his surprise, it wasn’t Connie.

He opened the door. “Armin? Eren?”

“Hey, Marco!” Armin said with a smile. “Hope we’re not disturbing you, it is pretty late!”

“Of course not, come in,” Marco said smiling. The two boys came in, peeling off their wet jackets. “You’re out pretty late.”

Eren laughed. “We were at a movie,” he explained. “And…well, we ran into Connie and Sasha on the way home. They didn’t look good.”

Marco frowned. He flicked the kettle on and gestured for them both to sit. “What do you mean they didn’t look good?” he asked.

Armin hesitated. “I think Connie was bleeding.” Marco’s eyes widened. Connie wasn’t the type to get into random fights on the street. Come to think of it, he had been an awful long time walking Sasha to the bus stop. 

“It didn’t look too serious though,” Eren added quickly. “But…they both seemed really scared and shaken, almost as if they’d seen a ghost. We were concerned, so we came to see if you knew anything.”

Marco slumped down in a chair. “I’m afraid I don’t, he said. He rubbed his temples. How much trouble could those two get into in half an hour? He felt sick.

“You’re pale,” Armin noted. “I’m sure they’ll be fine Marco. We only saw them ten minutes ago, they were heading for the bus stop.” 

What had they been doing for the rest of the time then? Marco stood up, he needed to busy himself. “Tea or coffee?” he said.

“Tea, please,” Armin said.

“I’m fine,” Eren said, waving his hand. “Hey, is that – is that Jean’s sweatshirt? Are you guys like a thing or something?”

Marco froze. He was thankful he had his back to Eren. He didn’t want them to see the crazy blush that was sweeping across his cheeks. Despite everything, he was still getting flustered when people mentioned Jean to him.

Armin hit Eren lightly. “Forgive him, Marco, he always has had a big mouth.”

“It was a genuine question!” Eren insisted.

Marco turned around, leaning against the countertop. “We’re just friends,” he said. Unfortunately, he added in his head.

Eren smiled at him. “Jean’s an idiot,” he said. “He’s an idiot who thinks he has to shoulder everything alone. He thinks he’s weak, and he thinks that he’s a burden if he relies on anybody. He needs a good friend. I’m glad he’s somebody like you to watch his back.”

Eren’s words were so sincere and heartwarming that Marco smiled, momentarily forgetting his worries about Connie and Sasha. “Thanks,” he said.

As they waited for the kettle to come to the boil, Marco gathered his courage. “So, what happened with you two?” he blurted, looking at Eren.

Eren frowned. “He hasn’t told you?”

A phone rang. Eren dug out his phone, clicking the answer button. “Mikasa?” 

His face immediately grew serious, brows furrowing and frown deepening. He clenched his fist. Marco exchanged a worried glance with Armin.

“Wait, what happened to Connie and Sasha? What? What about Jean?” The color drained from Eren’s face. “Boris?” Armin bit his lip worriedly. 

Eren cursed. “That fucker has gone and done it!” he said. “Okay, yeah. I’m at Marco’s, get here as soon as possible.”

He ended the call, looking at Armin. They didn’t say a thing, but Armin seemed to realize what was going on anyway. “Oh no,” the blond muttered, looking at his hands.

Marco’s mouth was dry. “What happened?” he asked.

Eren looked at him slowly. “Jean’s in trouble,” he said, green eyes flashing. “Big trouble.”

***

The river that ran through the city was murky. Maybe it was just because it was dark, but it definitely didn’t look good.

They were currently near the docks. A line of warehouses stood behind them, and further upstream there were boats lined up. They weren’t too close to them, however, and they were in a deserted section of the riverbank, in front of a derelict warehouse with nobody around.

Jean’s hands were handcuffed behind his back. There were cuffs on his ankles too. Chained to each foot was a large, heavy brick. He was lying on the wet ground, alone, cold, and about to die.

Things weren’t looking good.

“Y’know, Kirschtein,” Boris said, resting his foot on Jean’s chest. “I’m doing you a favor. Sure, I’m going to drown you, but this way, it’s quick. If it were by the hands of the Titans, it would be much more drawn out and painful.”

Dread and panic were pooling in Jean’s stomach. “Please,” he whispered his voice hoarse. “Don’t do this, Boris.”

Boris laughed, leaning down and patting him on the cheek. Jean winced as he came into contact with his wound. “See you in hell, Jean.”

Boris moved away. He looked at the two thugs. “Take care of him.”

Then he was gone. The two men left took a side each of Jean. 

“Hey! Let go of me!” Jean yelled, struggling and squirming in their grasp. One of them laughed. Jean knew it was hopeless – these guys were strong, and between being bound and weighed down Jean could barely move. “Please, you won’t get away with this! Let me go!” 

Was this it?

Fuck, now there were tears coming out of his eyes. Jean thrashed around, but their grip was resolute.

“On three,” one of them said to the other. “One…”

Jean closed his eyes.

“Two…”

He took a deep breath.

“Three!” They swung him and let go. Jean went crashing into the river.

His eyes flew open straight away. The water was freezing, and the cold shocked him to the bone. It was all he could do not to gasp. He was already numb.  
He began struggling in the water. He desperately tried to kick, to swim to the surface, but it was nearly impossible. He couldn’t move his limbs much, and the bricks were dragging him down. Jean could see the dim light of the surface get farther and farther out of reach. 

This was it.

Jean’s lungs were burning already. He thought of his parents, who believed he was at college. They didn’t know anything about the mess he’d gotten himself into. Would they ever find out? He presumed they would; they would report him as missing when they didn’t hear from him, and find out that he was never at college. They probably wouldn’t ever find out what had happened to him.

He thought of Eren. Poor fucker, he was alone in this mess now. It would probably suit him fine, though. Now he could do whatever he wanted, he was free to go to the police. He thought of Boris. He just hoped that he would leave Sasha and Connie and Marco alone.

Marco.

The thought of him made Jean want to sob. He wondered if he would ever find out. Surely Connie and Sasha would tell him what had happened earlier? At least if his last memory of him was Jean helping his friends, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? He remembered how he’d been at dinner, distant and distracted. He had never the chance to find out what was wrong. 

Would Marco end his shift tomorrow with a coffee for Jean? Would he look for Jean outside the shop and not see him? Jean wanted to sob.

He was still wearing his sweatshirt. At least he had a part of Marco with him.

Jean’s lungs were on fire. He couldn’t help but open his mouth, gasping and trying to take in air. Of course, there was none. His lungs filled with the freezing cold water as he sunk to the bottom of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my name is viola and i love making jean kirschtein suffer  
> "weekly updates" i said  
> i'm so sorry i'm still alive and here if any of u guys are
> 
> wow longest chapter so far swaggie  
> feedback is appreciated! let me know what you guys thought!  
> thanks for reading bbys <3
> 
> [tumblr dot com](http://gaaradical.tumblr.com/)


	8. savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bring him home.

“Can somebody please explain to me what the hell is going on?” Marco asked hotly. Mikasa had just pulled herself out of the taxi outside of Marco’s apartment building, practically throwing her fare at the driver. It was still raining out, so she put up her umbrella. She glanced at her watch; it was nearly 2am. She ignored Marco’s question, instead reaching over to squeeze Eren’s hand.

Eren was trying to hide it, but Mikasa knew him better than anyone. She could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that he was tense, she could tell by the way his brow furrowed slightly that he was very nervous and worried. And she could tell by the way he wouldn’t look at Marco that he was trying not to let on how bad things were.

Just a while ago Connie had arrived home with Sasha, both very shaken. Immediately realizing something bad had happened Mikasa had made some hot tea and attempted to get the story out of them. Once she heard about Boris, she nearly dropped her mug. Mikasa hadn’t been involved in the catastrophe Jean and Eren had managed to get themselves into but she recognized the name. Any suspicions were confirmed when Sasha told her that Jean had stayed behind.

Three things had become very clear in the young woman’s head; one: someone from the Titans was in the city, and had found out Jean was hiding here. Two: Eren was in danger. And three: Jean was in even more danger.

Remembering that Eren was out there she had called him immediately. She’d admit that originally her first thought was to get Eren away as quickly as possible. But then she thought about Jean; blunt Jean Kirstein who used to live next door to them and had a dumb crush on her as a kid. They couldn’t just abandon him, could they?

So here she was, ready to go looking for him with Eren and Armin.

“Hey!” Mikasa was snapped out of her thoughts by Marco’s voice. His usual calm and confident demeanor had evaporated; he looking just as tense as Eren, and possibly even more worried. “Can someone please tell me what’s happening here?”

They couldn’t drag him even further into this mess. Because of Jean, Mikasa’s friends had been targeted. He was in between a rock and a hard place; Mikasa knew that Jean needed support from people like Marco, but by being with him he was endangering him. She didn’t want to get Marco even further involved.

“Nothing’s happening,” she said, meeting his eyes. Mikasa usually had good control over her emotions, and had always been able to lie. After all, she knew that sometimes a lie could be a good thing; something that spared a person unnecessary pain or worry. It was a technique she had mastered, one that was very useful. She had used it many times before to get Eren to calm down.

Marco, however, wasn’t fooled. A flicker of anger was visible in his dark eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Mikasa,” he said, his voice a tone lower than usual. “Eren said that he was in danger.”

Mikasa shot Eren a dark look. He sent her an apologetic one before looking away. Mikasa loved him, but he never knew when to keep his mouth shut, did he?

A heavy sigh escaped from her lips and she moved closer to the three of them, her umbrella shielding them somewhat from the torrential downpour. “How much has he told you?” she asked the taller male. “Jean, I mean.” Marco’s face didn’t change. “Nothing, then?” She sighed again.

“Well, long story short, Jean and Eren got involved with the wrong crowd and came here to get rid of them. Judging from Connie and Sasha’s story one of the people from that wrong crowd found Jean tonight.”

Eren mumbled a curse, grinding his teeth while Armin looked at the ground, deep in thought (Mikasa could practically see the cogs behind his forehead beginning to whir). Marco looked confused, his brow creasing and mouth frowning. Then slowly the realization dawned on him, his eyes widening slightly and turning a little fearful. Of course; Mikasa had highlighted before the dangers of being friends with someone like Jean. 

“Connie and Sasha?” he choked.

“Fine, just shaken.”

He sighed in relief, but the tension and fear was still there. He was silent for a moment, as if afraid of Mikasa’s answer. “Jean?”

Mikasa looked away.

“Mikasa. What about Jean?”

The black haired beauty could see Marco clenching his fists. It felt so wrong to see him like this; Marco was known for being warm and kind and confident and happy; always bearing a kind smile.

_“Mikasa.”_

“He’ll be killed.” Armin said it for Mikasa, his piercing blue eyes meeting Marco’s dark. Mikasa pulled her scarf around herself a little tighter.

Marco didn’t even look surprised. His breath hitched and he gulped, but there was no shock in his expression. He just looked even more worried, even more scared. His fists clenched even tighter.

“Not unless we have anything to do about it,” Eren growled, speaking for the first time since Mikasa arrived. “If Boris thinks we’re going to just let him die he has another thing coming.” Mikasa found herself smiling a little. This would be dangerous, but she couldn’t help but feel a little proud at Eren’s words.

Armin tilted his head thoughtfully. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “So it will be best if we split up. We’ll need to leave immediately. It’s going to be hard to locate him but we don’t really have any other option. We’ll search the city as quickly as we can, especially darker more isolated places where they could get away with a murder. If we find nothing, we’ll need to call the police to start a wider search. I know that might end Jean in jail with an even bigger risk of being hurt, but it will be our only option.”

Eren was nodding. “Let’s go then, we don’t have any time to lose.”

Mikasa nodded. “You two go together, I’ll go alone.” If she had it her way, she would go with Eren. But she knew that if any of them was caught in a bad situation, she’d be most likely able to get out of it alone.

Armin frowned. “Actually, you should go with Eren. I’ll go with Marco.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “Marco isn’t coming with us.”

“Like hell I’m not,” he interrupted. “Jean is my friend too!”

“We’ve already dragged you too far into this. This will put you in even more danger.”

“I don’t care. Jean could be dying out there; I can’t just sit at home!”

“Every second we spend arguing makes his death more likely. Go inside, Marco.”

“Four pairs of eyes are better than four, Mikasa,” Armin muttered. “He should come with us.”

Mikasa scowled. “Connie and Sasha’s lives were endangered because of your kindness to Jean. Do you really want to put your own life on the line for a stranger?”

“He’s not a stranger!” Marco yelled.

Mikasa was taken aback, her eyes widening. She didn’t think she had ever heard him shout before. Everything seemed to go quiet for a moment. A car drove by on the street. The rain eased a little, now only pitter-pattering on her umbrella.

“He’s not just a stranger, Mikasa,” Marco said, quietly this time. He looked away. The streetlights were painting his face in an artificial light. “He told me time and time again that being friends with him would be dangerous. I didn’t care. I still don’t care. I told him – I promised him that I would protect him. And now, he needs protecting doesn’t he?” His voice was soft, but it was filled with raw emotion. 

“Mikasa,” Eren said very quietly. “I know how Marco feels.” Blue-green eyes met dark eyes and Mikasa knew what he was talking about. What if Eren hadn’t felt the need to protect some helpless little girl all those years ago? Where would Mikasa be then? Marco was probably feeling like Eren had back then – the need to protect somebody he barely knew. 

Mikasa wasn’t a helpless little girl anymore.

She put down her umbrella and nodded. Turning to Eren, she said, “Let’s go.”

They nodded a goodbye to Armin and Marco. “If you find him call us,” Armin said, tapping his phone. “We’ll do the same.”

“Be careful!” Eren called after him. The two young men took off down the street. Mikasa struggled to think of a place to begin. “If you were Boris and about to commit a murder, where would you go?”

Eren made a face. “I didn’t know as much about him as Jean did,” he said slowly. “But I know that the last time someone betrayed the Titan’s when we were there, he drowned them.” Now that Marco was gone, his expressions were a lot freer; a fusion of anxiety and anger was present on his features.

“So, should we start with places where you could drown?”

“Good as any place.”

Mikasa nodded. “Let’s start at the river.”

They broke into a run, navigating the dark streets. Mikasa knew the city well, unlike Eren who followed her. They slowed to a jog, ignoring the looks from the occasional people they encountered this late at night. Speeding up a little, they broke out at the riverbank. Nobody was in sight, just a few boats bobbing in the water.

“Damn it,” she could hear Eren mutter.

“They might be somewhere along here,” Mikasa muttered. Upstream were the busier docks, where even this late at night there would be people working. Downstream was quieter, mostly occupied by warehouses. If Mikasa remembered correctly, it was never as busy there. More warehouses and loading points had been built when the economy was thriving; now at a downturn, most had been abandoned.

If a murder was going to be committed, it would be down there. Mikasa gestured for Eren to follow her.

The siblings jogged softly, trying to make as little noise as they could. The water in puddles still splashed though, and Mikasa cursed inside her head. Each noise seemed obscenely loud to her ears. The further they went downstream the darker it got. This part of town was really run-down, she noticed. Barely any of the streetlights were working, but the moon had managed to shine through the clouds now that the rain had stopped, painting the empty buildings in stark white light. It was like a chessboard, she noticed. An obscene chessboard; the darkness of the night, followed by the white light of the moon, followed by darkness once again.

And then suddenly; voices. Reacting quickly, Mikasa ducked behind the corner of one of the warehouses, pulling Eren by the collar of his rain jacket. Peering around and squinting, she could make out three figures; three men standing.

Wait, there was a fourth figure on the ground.

Her breath caught in her throat. Jean. She elbowed Eren in the stomach and he nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and fumbling with it. His fingers were numb, but he eventually managed to send a text to Armin; “downstream from the docks.”

Meanwhile, Mikasa leaned forward, trying to hear their conversation. One of the men walked away. He must be the one in charge – Boris? Mikasa focused on the figure on the ground. In the moonlight she could just about make out his features; long face, scruffy undercut, blood gushing and bruises blossoming on his skin. It was Jean without a doubt, and she found her eyes narrowing. He was so beaten up already. How _dare_ they.

She made herself focus on the situation, not her anger. From the looks of things, his hands and ankles were bound. That meant to free him they would need some sort of key, right? Dark eyes flickered from her friend to the two men. One of them had to have it. If they could take them and get the key off of them, they would be able to free Jean.

They looked big though, and according to Connie they had no problem smacking him and Sasha around the place. She glanced at Eren. “What’s the plan?" he hissed.

“We’re waiting until Marco and Armin get here.”

“The fuck Mikasa?” The two men picked up Jean. Mikasa felt sick. “We can save him.”

“I don’t know if we can take them. They look big.”

“We have to try. Jean is going to die, Mikasa.”

“Eren…I want to save Jean as much as you do. But we don’t know if we can definitely save him yet! And I don’t want to risk your life for somebody we mightn’t even save.” She could hear Jean’s voice now, faintly in the distance. Yeah, she really felt sick now.

“Dammit, Mikasa. It’s like I told you years ago! If we don’t fucking fight, we can’t fucking win. If we don’t go out and at least try to take on these assholes Jean is dead for sure. We need to try.”

The words were like a slap to Mikasa. “Eren…” she trailed off. She glanced at where Jean was, torn. Her eyes widened slightly. “They’re going to-”

Jean yelled. A splash followed.

A cry of rage.

It took Mikasa a few seconds to realize it came from Eren. 

And suddenly Eren had broken into a run and was sprinting from their hiding place. “Eren!” Mikasa called, getting up and following him. The two men turned around, taken aback by the sudden outburst. Seeing Eren approach them quickly – Eren always had been a fast runner – they fall into defensive stances. But Eren didn’t even try to attack them; he swerved around them. Mikasa didn’t have time to realize what he was doing until he had one foot on the low wall that served as a boundary between the path and the river. Before she could say or do anything, Eren had dived over the wall and into the water.

“Eren!” she cried. The two men were staring in shock.

Anger coiled in her gut and Mikasa launched herself at them. Letting loose an angry cry of her own, she punched the first man in the face before swinging her leg around in a kick that swept his feet from under him. The second man threw himself at her but Mikasa grabbed his arm and flipped him over her hip. He went crashing down too, and she sent a kick to his ribs before he could get up.

Breathing heavily Mikasa knelt down, reaching down to search the jacket pocket of the second guy. She didn’t notice the first guy getting up, not until she was being tackled to the ground. Mikasa squirmed in his grasp, gasping as she hit the ground hard. She kicked up with both of her feet, forcing the man back a little and giving herself some room. She kicked again, her feet hitting him the chest and pushing him away. She scrambled to her feet, glancing at the river. Eren hadn’t re-surfaced.

At this stage the second man was coming at her, armed with a knife while the other was getting back onto his feet. Mikasa breathed hard, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She could fight them both and win, but she couldn’t keep them both down at the same time. He swung his blade and Mikasa ducked under his arm, sending a punch to his stomach. She grinned in satisfaction as he made a strangled choking noise, but then; fuck! There were hands grabbing her hair and pulling her back and now there was a fist in her face. Mikasa struggled, flipping the guy over her shoulder. She was breathing hard now, and one of them was running at her when-

-when Marco Bodt crashed into him. They both went down and rolled to the ground, but somehow Marco ended up on top, pinning him down with his weight. 

Now, Mikasa had known Marco for a few years. And while she had seen him pissed off and a little upset before, it was nothing like this. She had thought that he had been angry earlier; if that was angry, he was absolutely _furious_ now. Rage and hatred were dripping from his eyes, and he pulled back his hand and punched the man in the face with a ferocity Mikasa had never seen before. For a second, she almost forgets about Eren in the river.

The other man tried to run to Marco but Mikasa tripped him up; as easy as stealing candy from a baby. She followed Marco’s suit, straddling his chest. She plucked the knife from his hand and pressed the blade to his throat. Her actions are calm and calculated and Mikasa knew her face was giving nothing away, unlike Marco. But inside there were one hundred and one things whirling inside of her.

“Where’s Eren?” the voice belonged to Armin.

“You fucking bastard!” Marco yelled. “What did you do to Jean?”

The thug even managed a smirk. “He’s at the bottom of the river by now,” he rasped. Marco looked down at him in a mixture of horror and disbelief for a moment. And then: he didn’t yell; he roared. He swung his fist back, bringing it down sharply on the man’s head. Once, twice, three times. 

Armin stepped closer. “Marco! Calm down, you need to calm down!”

The man’s nose snapped and blood spurted from his nostrils. Marco didn’t stop yelling or punching him. Mikasa noticed how still the man was; he wasn’t moving. “Marco!” she yelled sharply.

Marco froze, looking down with a look of pure disgust at the man underneath him. But his brown eyes widened slightly and flickered up to his hand. The man’s blood was smeared across them. “Holy shit.” Compared to his previous tone of voice, Mikasa could barely hear him.

There was a splash, and the sound of someone gasping for breath. “Eren?” Mikasa turned her head, hoping beyond hope. She could just about see over the low wall. Sure enough; Eren is there, sucking in air and treading water. Jean was nowhere in sight.

“He-” Eren coughed a little. “He’s down here! But, I don’t know, there’s something weighing him down! He’s cuffed, I need a key!”

“On it.” Mikasa glared down at the one underneath her. She knew she had a very limited time to work with here; another few minutes and Jean would be dead. Another few minutes and Eren could end up dying from hypothermia. She growled. “The man you threw in the river. He was cuffed. Tell me where the key is or I’ll kill you.”

At this stage Marco had scrambled away from the unconscious thug, looking horrified. Armin reached down to check his pulse. “He’s alive,” he whispered. “Just out cold.”  
Marco didn’t say anything; he just breathed heavily and looked at the crimson on his hand.

The man said nothing. Mikasa dug the knife into his skin harder. “Don’t think I won’t,” she said. “I’ve killed before. It would surprise you, right? I knifed a man in the back when I was nine years old. Don’t test my patience. If you don’t tell me I’ll kill you and your friend and find it anyway. Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

More silence for a few moments, but then;

“Inside jacket pocket,” he grunted. Mikasa’s nimble fingers darted into the pocket and closed around the key. She pulled it out, turning to where Eren was in the water. “Eren!” she cried, flinging the key towards him. His hand shot up and he caught it before taking a deep breath and disappearing under the surface.

Mikasa turned back to the man under her. “If anyone asks Jean Kirstein died tonight,” she said threateningly. Take your friend and leave, tell your boss it went off without a hitch. If I hear anything about Boris coming after my friends again I’ll find you and slice you to ribbons.” She was deadly serious.

***

Eren kicked with all of his might through the water. It was freezing; the cold was a shock to his system. His whole body was shaking but he willed himself to keep going. Jean was depending on him. He kicked even harder, willing his legs not to fail him now.

It was impossible to see in the murky water. The first time he had dived in, he had dived in where he could see ripples and bubbles. After some swimming around blindly his hand had connected with Jean’s head. He had tried to pull him up but there was something dragging him down.

Now he swam straight down and came into contact with Jean’s body almost immediately, because he knew where it was. He swam further down, his hands pulling him up under his arm. But no; Jean was heavier than Eren anyway, but now he had inhaled a lot of water and there was something dragging him done. Eren didn’t stand a chance.

Panic surged in his stomach. He and Jean fought a lot, but they always had. He had grown up next door to Eren and he was probably his closet friend after Armin and Mikasa. He was the only one who truly understood what they had gone through; they had gone through it together and gotten out (sort-of) together. But they were still in this mess, and he’d be damned if he’d let Jean leave him in it alone.

He swam further down, using his hands to navigate down Jean’s body. Yep, there were his arms. Eren swallowed his panic and forced himself to concentrate. He felt down Jean’s arms to his wrist and there were definitely cuffs. He brushed around, trying to locate the keyhole. Eventually he found it and with fumbling cold fingers he managed to slide the key, twisting and releasing Jean’s wrists.

Jean was so cold. So cold and still and heavy. Eren’s lungs were beginning to burn.

He moved further down (Jean was sinking lower by the minute; they must be nearly at the bottom by now). He ghosted his hands down Jean’s legs, finding his ankles and the cuffs. Eren’s legs brushed against something below Jean; the fuckers had weighed him down with bricks. The anger fueled Eren as he felt around for the second keyhole. He prayed the key would work for this one too.

It felt like an eternity before he managed to insert and turn the key. The cuffs opened and his fingers stumbled over them to get them off of Jean’s legs. Immediately a huge weight that had been dragging him down was lifted. Eren would have smiled triumphantly but he was a little too short of breath to think straight.

He began kicking upwards as hard as he could, up towards the surface. He tugged Jean up with him, but Jean was now weighing him down. He couldn’t take all of his weight, not when he was full of water. Eren kicked as hard as he could, but the surface didn’t get any closer. He could see the moonlight from where he was, but he couldn’t get up to it unless he let go of Jean.

If he let Jean go he knew he would definitely die. Better to die together; they entered this mess together; they’d leave it together too. His lungs were on fire as he began to sink back into the depths of the water.

There was a flurry of bubbles and the next thing Eren knew the weight of Jean had been lifted from him. Someone else had dived in to help him bring Jean up. Mikasa? Hope suddenly crashed into his mind, as bright as the moonlight that shone through the rainclouds in the sky. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he kicked upwards, easily almost, now that the weight of another person had been lifted from him.

His head broke the surface and the cool night air entered his lungs. Eren spluttered, sucking in as much oxygen as he could. He coughed a little, and fuck, was he crying or was that just the river water on his face? He turned his head to see who had saved him and Jean. He had expected to see Mikasa, but instead a freckled face looked back at him, holding Jean carefully above the water.

“Eren!”

Eren turned his head to see Mikasa leaning over the wall, reaching out with her hand. Eren took it, glad of the assistance and she pulled him over. Armin muttered something under his breath that Eren didn’t catch, and the three of them helped take Jean from Marco, laying him on the ground. Armin knelt beside Jean as Mikasa and Eren helped Marco over.

***

Marco coughed and spluttered as he was hauled over the wall, landing on his knees and shaking violently. The water had been freezing, but he had known that it would be. After Eren didn’t surface with Jean, he knew inside something must have happened and had dove over to help out.

Mikasa was tugging off Eren’s jacket and putting her own on him, giving him a tight hug. “Don’t do something as reckless as that again!” she chided.

“Whatever, Mom,” Eren muttered.

Marco crawled over to where Jean was, taking his hand. He looked so small. He was smaller than Marco anyway, and weeks of not eating properly had taken its toll on him. He was soaking wet, freezing cold and deathly pale. Marco noticed that he was still wearing his hoodie; it was too big on him and hung loose and soaking wet on his frame.

Armin had his fingers on Jean’s pulse point. “He’s alive,” he said, chewing his lip. “But he’s not breathing.”

Marco’s heart stopped. He felt like he was going to be sick. He resisted the urge to heave as he clasped Jean’s hand with both of his. “No, no, no, no, no,” he breathed. “Please, Jean, no.”

“Move!” Eren pushed down beside Armin, unzipping the hoodie and pushing it out of the way. He interlocked his fingers and began compressing on Jean’s chest. “No Kirstein, don’t even fucking think about it.” After thirty sharp compressions, he tilted Jean’s head back, pinching his nose as he brought his mouth to his. He gave Jean two breaths of air before going back to compressions.

“You’re such a stupid fucking bastard. You got us into this mess. Well, it’s partially my fault as well. But you can’t leave me alone to figure it out! Selfish bastard.”

More compressions and more breaths. No change in Jean.

“You’ve always been stubborn! Be stubborn now, asshole. Cling onto your life. I need you to stay with us.” Eren was yelling now. “Marco needs you to stay with us. We all need you to stay with us.”

Another set of compressions and breaths, but Jean’s chest still didn’t begin to rise or fall. Marco let a choked sob escape.

“Listen to me, Jean. Listen to me!” Eren was crying now. “If you’re in there, listen. We’re going to get out of this mess. You’re going to back to your parents, your brother is going to wake up, and you’re going to go back to college and live that damn comfortable and easy life you’ve always been going on about. As long as you don’t die you can do everything you dreamed of doing!”

“Eren,” Mikasa said gently. “Your compressions aren’t deep enough. Let me take over for a while.” Eren moved away and Mikasa took over. She didn’t speak but Marco could tell by the way she was biting her lip and looking down at Jean that she was worried.

Hours ago Marco had been jealous because of the easy way Jean and Sasha got along. Now? He could fucking marry her and he wouldn’t care, so long as he came back alive. He had to come back alive to him. Hadn’t Marco sworn he would protect him?

Yet he was useless. He wasn’t like Mikasa or Eren, he didn’t know CPR, he couldn’t do anything apart from clutch Jean’s hand. He brought the hand to his mouth, gently brushing his lips against the cold skin. “Please Jean, please,” he whispered. “Come back to me, please. Wake up!”

Mikasa stopped. “I don’t…I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” she said softly, her voice shaking a little as she stood up.

“Bullshit!” Eren roared, tears leaking out of his green eyes. 

“He still has a pulse,” Armin muttered. Without a word the blond picked up where Mikasa left off.

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. No change.

Marco looked at Jean’s face. He looked somewhat peaceful, as if he was sleeping. Marco was reminded of the night he had stayed at the apartment and they had fallen asleep on the couch watching bad movies and eating pizza. His eyes burned with unshed tears.

Marco doesn't know if there's a God up there, but he says a prayer to any that may be listening: _“I don’t care who you are. Just don’t take him away. Don’t take him away from me,_ please.” 

__Mikasa took a few steps away, leaning against the low wall as her dark eyes began to water._ _

__“Marco…” Armin muttered, biting his lip and looking like he was about to burst into tears himself. “I think Mikasa’s right, he’s not…he’s not responding.”_ _

__Marco’s blood went cold._ _

__“Fuck this,” Eren said, coming back around to Jean’s side. “Listen to me Kirstein! You’re not dying, not when I’m here. You’re not getting off so easily!”_ _

__“Eren, give it up,” Mikasa said sadly, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s no use. He’s…he’s gone.”_ _

__Marco let out a sob._ _

__Eren was giving compressions almost angrily, pressing down roughly in between his breaths._ _

__“Jean,” Marco choked out. “Listen to me, please. Open your eyes, breathe! I won’t let them hurt you again, I promise. You’ll be safe with me, we’ll drink coffee and eat pizza and watch dumb movies and fall asleep on the couch. We’ll hang out with Connie and eat dinner made by Sasha. You’ll be my best friend and I’ll love you, just wake up. Please!” Marco was openly sobbing now. He could hear Armin sniffling behind him as he patted his shoulder. “Please.”_ _

__“Dammit,” Eren muttered, giving two more breaths._ _

__No change._ _

__Marco closed his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks._ _

__

__And then opened again as he heard it; a hacking coughing sound. Jean sat up, coughing up water violently. Marco’s heart stopped, he heard Armin gasp and Mikasa stand._ _

__Jean was shaking badly, coughing up all of the water in his lungs. “Fucking hell, you’re such an asshole!” Eren half-laughed and half-cried, holding his shoulder to steady him._ _

__After what seemed like hours (though probably wasn’t even minutes) Jean stopped coughing, instead starting to breathe heavily; greedily sucking in air._ _

__Marco’s heart was thundering. He was sitting up, breathing, shaking, alive._ _

__Marco had to hold himself back and wait until Jean’s breathing was a little even. “W-what happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse and shaky and his teeth chattering. He was crying a little too, Marco noticed._ _

__Marco sobbed, throwing his arms around Jean’s shivering frame. He was openly sobbing now, his arms around Jean’s shoulders. He could feel Jean’s heart beating when they were this close. Oh God, he was alive. Alive and wrapping his own arms around Marco’s waist._ _

__Mikasa was wiping a tear away from her eye. Armin had one arm across Eren’s shoulders. Eren was breathing heavily, wiping sweat away from his forehead._ _

__“W-what happened?” Jean barely managed to get the words out. “I-I thought I was de-dead.”_ _

__Marco pulled away a little, brushing Jean’s wet bangs out of his eyes. “So did I. But I told you, remember?” It was hard to keep from sobbing again; he was just so relieved. Jean was alive. Alive and with him, alive and in his arms. “I told you I’d protect you no matter what.”_ _

__The sky rumbled and once again, it began to rain._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was exhausting to write  
> and lma o nope i didn't listen to [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uNOATLR20Kk) while writing that last scene what are you talking about  
> things that annoy me: people saying mikasa is a complete one dimensional character who only cares for eren bECAUSE SHE'S NOT GODDAMN  
> also yeah weekly updates have p much flown out the window maybe an update every two weeks? idk we'll see
> 
> ommfG???? RHANK YOU SO MCUH for all of the comments on the last chapter i just uwu uwu uwu uwu it really made my day thanks so much  
> ALSO MAJOR SHOUTOUT TO EVERYONE WHO SENT ASKS AND STUFF ON T UMBLR U GUYS MAKE me so happy i jsut feel so honored idk i'm too emotional over these types of things
> 
> idk much about cpr or w/e so pls forgive any inaccuracies
> 
> [tumblr dot com](http://gaaradical.tumblr.com)  
> [LMAO yeah so u know all those writing posts on tumblr w like tips and resources etc i always want to reblog them but my irl friends who follow my personal would want to read what i write and i'm like no. so i made a sideblog for writing stuff and other random fanfic related shit so eyah i'll leav e teh link here too B) holla](http://suppportingcharacters.tumblr.com/)


	9. connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises, connections and almost-confessions.

He watched his chest rise and fall, inhaling and exhaling, breathing in precious oxygen.

He was _alive_.

Marco let his eyes flutter close. Even now, hours later, his heart was thrumming against his chest. Someone had tried to kill Jean. End his life, take him away forever. The last few hours had been like a blur, yet way too clear and sharp at the same time.

Jean looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, Marco noted. His face relaxed, the hardness always present seemed to melt away. He looked much younger for it, too. His eyelids fluttered occasionally. Jean didn’t snore, instead he breathed heavily through his mouth. Breathing. Alive. Marco was so thankful.

He reached out to brush Jean’s hair out of his eyes. It was getting long, he noticed. He could do with a haircut. Marco sighed, running his hand over the contours of Jean’s face. He was still pale, but at least he wasn’t as cold as he had been. He gently caressed his cheek, not wanting to let go of him, but not wanting to wake him either. He frowned as he saw the bandage on it; his cheeks had been cut earlier.

“Marco,” came a soft voice. Marco looked over his shoulder to see Mikasa leaning against the doorframe. Eren and Armin were in the kitchen, both holding steaming mugs of hot chocolate. “You should eat something,” the raven-haired woman said.

She looked tired. She stood as straight as ever and looked alert, but there unmistakably tension in her strong shoulders. There were dark bags under her eyes as well.

Marco felt a rush of gratitude for her. If it weren’t for Mikasa or Eren, Jean would be dead, his body rotting at the bottom of a river. The idea made Marco’s stomach churn. He owed them a lot. “I’m okay,” he said with a shake of his head.

Mikasa gave him a disapproving look, but didn’t say anything. She had barely managed to convince him to take a warm shower and change into something warm. She knew he wouldn’t leave Jean’s side for another few hours.

After Jean had regained consciousness, they all made their way back to Marco’s apartment. Jean had been weak, he barely walked. Between Marco and Eren supporting him, they all made it back. Mikasa had insisted they take warm showers and change their clothes so they wouldn’t get sick. Eren was borrowing a pair of Marco’s old jeans and a shirt. Both looked ridiculously big on him. Almost immediately after, Jean fell asleep on the couch. Fell asleep was a bit of an understatement; Marco guessed that a hurricane could blow over the city and he wouldn’t stir.

Marco was ready to sleep too. He didn’t know what time it was, but he was pretty damn sure it would be getting light soon. There was no way he would be able for work in a few hours, he’d have to phone in sick. Besides, he wasn’t willing to leave Jean’s side just yet.

If Marco had any doubts about his feelings for Jean, they had been wiped clear by the night’s events. There was a period when he had thought Jean was dead, and the thought that he might have lost him forever…it was terrible.

“Marco, we’re going to head home,” came Armin’s voice. “Will you guys be okay here?”

Marco tore his eyes off Jean to face the blond. “Of course,” he said with a nod. Armin gave him a small smile. To say there were all shaken was an understatement.

Eren came up to stand beside Marco. He looked down at Jean with a frown. “Asshole,” he muttered. “Making us all worry.” He shook his head before giving Marco a sidelong glance. “Hey, Marco…”he began. “Jean and I…we fight a lot. But…we look out for each other. We’re friends, in a really weird sense of the word.” He almost cracked a smile. “But Jean’s…incredibly stubborn. And you mightn’t realize it, but he’s quite insecure too. He has this thing, this thing where he thinks if he accepts help from anyone, he’s a burden. If he’s been letting you help him out, you must be pretty special to him.”

Marco’s heart twisted a little in his chest.

“Jean has…a lot of history,” Eren said, looking back at him. “It’s not really my place to tell you all of if, but you have a right to know. Especially after tonight.” He nodded at Jean. “Get the bastard to tell you when he wakes.”

Marco simply nodded. Eren clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Right. Any trouble and give us a call, okay?” A minute later, and the three were gone.

It was just him and Jean now.

Marco hated being alone. Ever since his mother died, he had hated it. It was fine during the day, but at night…he didn’t like spending the night alone. Of course, he always made himself do it. He wasn’t a kid anymore, after all. The nights where he was alone, when Connie was out…he didn’t like them. But he managed them.

Now, even though he was alone in one sense – Jean wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon – he didn’t feel alone. After the night’s events, Marco should have been panicked, and worried, and scared, but he didn’t feel any of those things. A strange serenity had overcome him; instead of feeling fearful or panicked, he simply felt relieved. Jean was alive, that was the important thing. And, Marco thought as he brushed his fingertips lightly over the bandage on his cheek, he wasn’t going to let anybody harm him again.

***

Marco woke up a few hours later. The first thing he registered was a stiffness in his back, like he had fallen asleep in a strange position. His mind was foggy, events from last night scattered. Light from the window poured in behind him, signaling morning’s arrival.

And then his pillow moved.

Eyes widening, he sat up quickly. He was still sitting on a chair he had pulled right up to his couch, but sometime during the night he must have fallen asleep and slumped forward, his head resting on Jean’s chest (the movement coming from the rise and fall of his breathing).

Oh shit, yeah. Jean.

He looked at the man still sleeping on his couch. Marco wondered briefly if he ever got much sleep; he always looked tired and worn with dark bags under his eyes. He looked a little better; there was more color to his face than there had been last night, he didn’t look as deathly pale.

The memories of last night seemed to flood Marco’s brain at once. With a mumbled curse, he stood up from his chair, making his way to the kitchen. Still half asleep, he fumbled around with pouring a glass of water for himself.

So. That happened.

Somebody had used his two best friends to get find Jean. They then tried to kill Jean. Something was coiling in his stomach and making his hand shake. It took him a minute to realize that it was anger.

He could remember being angry last night. He could remember hitting one of those thugs, hitting him again and again until blood gushed from his nose and lip, hitting him until he stopped struggling.

Marco turned his hand so that he was looking at his palm. It was clean, of course, but there had been blood on it last night. He took a deep breath, before gulping down some of the water. He needed to stay calm.

Marco’s life was usually simple and orderly; days filled with sensations of déjà vu as he fell into patterns. College classes, work, study, dinner with friends, spending time with Connie and Sasha, sleep, repeat. He had no problem falling into a life of neat patterns. Of course, then Jean came into his life, with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. Marco had been able to easily allow his patterns change slightly to allow room for this new fixture in his life.

Now, though? He had known that there was an element of danger tied around Jean. But now, Marco fully understood the difference between _knowing_ and _understanding_. Sure, Jean had warned him that those after him might try and get at the people around him, but nothing that drastic had ever happened. The most danger Jean was in, as far as Marco was concerned, was from living on the streets.

But now…Marco could see the real danger, he could see that Jean never was exaggerating. Someone had tried to kill him. Someone would have hurt his two best friends just to get the chance to kill him. If things hadn’t turned out slightly differently, Jean would be dead right now.

Nothing like this had ever happened in Marco’s simple, orderly life before. But Marco found that he didn’t want to go back to that life either.

Slowly, Marco began to function properly again. He had work, right? No way was he going. He phoned Hanji, to say he was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it to work that day. He had barely hung up again when he heard the door opening.

Immediately he whirled around. Marco felt calmer than he had when he woke up, but he was still a little on edge. He sighed in relief when it was only Connie.

Connie didn’t look like he had gotten much sleep either. Marco wouldn’t have been surprised if he had pulled an all-nighter.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately.

Connie was silent for a moment, before giving a curt nod. “I’m…fine,” he said eventually. “Didn’t really get hurt. Just shaken, is all.”

“And Sasha?” Marco asked quickly.

“The same.”

Marco closed his eyes and sighed heavily in relief. Knowing his friends were okay would help him breathe a little easier. Despite everything, they had all gotten through this okay.

He reopened his eyes. Connie looked hesitant, he chewed on his lip. “Is he…” He glanced over his shoulder, to wear he could just about see Jean on the couch. “Is he okay?”

Marco nodded. “He’s…” How to describe it? He had been at death’s door, but he was still alive.

“What happened?” Connie asked. A better question, one easier for Marco to answer.

“They…they tried to drown him.” The words felt strange in his mouth, a part of Marco still couldn’t believe that had actually happened.

Connie’s eyes widened. “ _What_?” he spluttered, after a moment. “They…what? How?”

Marco suddenly felt weary, even more tired than he had been. He just wanted to sleep for days, curl up and pretend this never happened. The thought of classes on Monday…maybe he would pull another sick day. He pulled out one of the chairs at the table and lowered himself down into it.

“After you two got away, they beat him up. And then…they threw him into the river. At this stage, Mikasa was here and we knew something was up. So we looked for him and…luckily we found him before he…yeah.”

Connie shut his eyes, resting his forehead in his hands. “This is fucked up,” he croaked. “This is…deep shit. We’re in fucking trouble Marco, they know where we live and they know we know him and-”

”It’s okay,” Marco quickly reassured, leaning over to touch Connie’s arm. Mikasa…well, you know her. She beat them up. She told them to tell that Boris guy that Jean was dead, and…man, she was terrifying. Hell, they looked terrified. I think we’re okay.”

Connie shook his head. “No Marco, listen. Shit, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I know you like him, and I know he saved my skin, and Sasha’s skin, but he’s a danger! Me and Sasha could have been hurt, you could have been hurt, going after those thugs. They could be watching this apartment for all we know. And from what I heard… I don’t think they’re the only ones after Jean. He’s a danger, Marco. The longer we have him around, the higher the chance of something like that happening again.”

Marco didn’t want to hear this. He closed his eyes again, shaking his head. “No, Connie, you don’t understand-“

“I understand that staying here, with him is a danger!” he hissed. He rubbed his hands over his face. “They might have listened to Mikasa, they might not care enough to finish him off, and yeah; the chances of something happening again…aren’t very big. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to feel safe with him around.”

Silence hung between them heavily. Marco slowly opened his eyes. “What…what do you want me to do?” he asked.

Connie was his best friend, had been for years. Marco cared a lot for him, and he wanted him to be safe. But he couldn’t just throw Jean out, not after his promise, not after last night…

Connie looked down, his expression changing. Marco couldn’t read it.

“Y’know Dazz?” Connie started, a little nervously. Marco frowned, taken aback by the sudden change in subject. “Of course I know him,” he said. Dazz was one of their friends from college. He was the same age as him, and was living on the campus dorms.

“Well, his roommate is transferring to some other University in Stohess. Weird time to transfer, right? The middle of the year, almost.” Connie swallowed. “Dazz was saying he’s looking for a new roommate, but it’s hard to find one at this time of the year, because most people already have accommodation sorted.”

“You were going to take him up on that offer,” Marco muttered. “You…shit, Connie, you don’t have to move out.”

Connie shook his head. “Hear me out man,” he said. “It’s not…it’s not just Jean. It’s this place; they knew we lived here; they waited for me and Sasha to leave, so they must have been watching the place. Coming back here…even now, I can’t relax. It’s stupid and paranoid, but I can’t get rid of the feeling someone’s watching me.” He stayed quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I’ll be able to feel safe here.”

Marco chewed on his lip. He didn’t know how to react. “And, I mean, me and Dazz are bros, I can totally move in with him for a while! It doesn’t have to be forever, after all. In the meantime, Jean can stay with you, right? And it’s not like bills or rent will be a problem, your dad takes care of most of them anyway…”

It made sense. It made perfect sense, but Marco didn’t like it. He didn’t want Connie to leave, even though he knew that he’d still end up seeing him nearly every day on campus anyway, but…

“If I don’t make you feel safe, it’s okay. I’m leaving Trost anyway.”

Marco whirled around in his chair. “Jean?” He hadn’t even heard him getting up, but there he stood. Wearing one of Marco’s too-big shirts, he looked smaller than he usually did. He was leaning against one of the walls, looking tired and weary. His face was set into its usual hard expression (almost defensive) but Marco could see he was shaken. Who wouldn’t be? The night’s events had left a dark fear in Jean’s honey toned eyes.

The night’s event had also left dark bruises on his face, where his skin had swollen and turned black and blue. And then there were the two long cuts on his cheek that Marco had seen last night; the two long cuts made by a knife. At least they were covered by bandages now.

“How are you feeling?” Marco asked immediately, concern heavy in his voice. And then, he registered what he had said. “Wait! What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Jean dropped his gaze, looking at the floor. “I can’t stay,” he said, his voice quiet. He looked over at Connie. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to be dragged into that.”

Connie shook his head, almost laughing. “You kidding me, dude? You saved my ass. Sasha’s too.”

Jean didn’t smile. There was a sadness in them, Marco noticed. A sort of sad determination that hadn’t been there before.

Connie’s eyes flickered from Jean to Marco. He mightn’t have been the sharpest tool in the box, but he gathered that the two in front needed to talk. That was okay, Connie didn’t want to spend any longer here than he had to, not when he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed.

“We can talk about this later,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to get some breakfast with Sash. I’ll talk to you in a while.” He looked at Jean again. “Thanks again, dude.” Jean grunted in response.

And then, Connie was gone. Jean slumped down in his empty chair.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Marco asked immediately. “No. Don’t answer that yet. You need some food in you.”

“Huh?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m fine, Marco. You’ve done enough.”

Marco remembered what Eren had said about Jean not liking to accept help from anyone. “Nope,” he said, standing up. “What do you want for breakfast?”

***

An hour later, with breakfast dishes stacked in the sink, Jean sat in one of Marco’s sweatshirts at his kitchen table. Last night felt like a blur to him. He remembered the sensations better than anything else; the pang of someone’s fist connecting with his body, the sharp pain of a blade opening his skin, the burning of his lungs as he struggled to hold his breath-

No. It was over now, no need to think about it. Jean tried to push all of those thoughts out of his mind. Tried being the key word.

His life in Trost certainly hadn’t been happy. Marco was like a ray of sunshine, but in an otherwise stormy sky. He had always been cautious, he lived looking over his shoulder, but he had thought that he would be safe. Cut himself off from everyone, stay in the shadows, and nobody would find him. Sure, the loneliness was killing him, but it was better that than to suffer at the hands of the Titans.

Now, though? The illusion that he was somewhat safe had been shattered. And not only that, but he put his friends, and Marco’s friends, in danger. Marco had done nothing but help him (Jean couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful he was) and he had repaid him by dragging him into this mess.

More than anything, Jean was scared. He had been told Mikasa threatened the thugs from last night, but what if news he was alive got back to Boris anyway? Even if Boris didn’t want to deal with him, all it took was a phone call for the Titans to be on his tracks. He had nearly died last night.

Despite his grim outlook on life, Jean didn’t want to die.

If it hadn’t been for Marco and Eren and other others, he’d be dead. Next time, he mightn’t be so lucky.

“Here.” Marco sat down, sliding a mug of coffee over to him. He nodded his thanks, taking a long sip from it. It was just how it was made in the coffee shop; just like the coffee he brought him so often.

“Now,” Marco said, frowning slightly. “What the hell did you mean, saying you were leaving?”

Jean couldn’t hold his gaze. “I meant exactly what I said. I don’t want to drag you into something like that again.”

Marco made an exasperated expression. “Jean! That’s your reason? I promised, remember? To protect you. How can I do that if you’re not here? And they mightn’t be as nice as us wherever you go next.”

Jean ground his teeth together. “You _have_ protected me already, Marco. You saved me last night. I…I thought I was _gone_. I’d given up, all I could feel was the water drag me down, I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t do anything to save myself. I was gone Marco, I had given up, I knew I was going to die. I closed my eyes, and then when I opened them, I was above the surface, and you were there, and _Christ_ , you were like some sort of angel, I thought I _had_ died but then I realized you had saved me.”

Jean’s eyes flickered upwards. Marco was looking very intently at his hands.

“Eren did most of it,” he said quietly.

Jean shook his head. “I’m not just talking about last night.” Marco looked up at him, confused.

“I was…so lonely.” He hated the way his voice cracked. “I barely talked to anyone, not even Eren, or Armin, or Mikasa. And sure, Sasha was giving me the bakery leftovers and sure I was surviving but I was alone. But I thought that if I shut everyone out, I couldn’t bring anyone down with me. Because that’s always what happened; my brother, Eren, even you…I’ve just dragged everyone close to me into this mess.”

He clenched his fists. “I went for so long without talking to anybody, it was so hard…I craved company, but I had none. Hell, I was surviving, but I wasn’t living. Not really. And then you came, and you were kind to me, and you treated me like a friend instead of some disgusting vermin on the street, and you brought me back to life, Marco.” Jean took a shuddering breath; he could feel tears prickling in his eyes. He dropped his gaze.

Because there was more to this than loneliness, wasn’t there? Jean could tell Marco how much he meant to him, or how looking at him made his stomach and heart do flips, or how his smiles set off a warm rush inside of him, a rush he had never experienced before. But he couldn’t tell him that, not really.

“You saved me Marco, from being alone. And you helped save me from drowning. I owe you so much. I want to stay, Marco, I don’t want to be alone again, but if anything ever happens again…if you got _hurt_ …” there it was again; the annoying crack in his voice. “I’d choose being alone for the rest of my life knowing you’re safe, than being happy and putting you in danger.”

Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to cry in front of Marco. Too late; the first tears began to leak from his eyes. Loneliness had been crushing him from all sides before he met Marco, it still did, but he tried to bury it, pretend it didn’t exist. Admitting all this to Marco was almost like confronting it. He swiped furiously at the tears.

He heard Marco stand up and then suddenly; his arms were wrapped around his shoulders. Marco was leaning on the table beside him, tugging him into a warm embrace. Jean’s eyes widened as Marco gently hushed him, brushing his fingers across his hair.

“It’s okay, Jean,” he said softly. “It’s okay to cry.”

It was like the floodgates had suddenly been opened; months of fear and loneliness and hatred and sadness seemed to leech out of him. He was crying openly now, face buried into Marco’s shoulder and hands clutching the back of his shirt. “I want to go home,” he said, painfully aware of how childish he sounded. “I just want all of this to be over.”

Marco’s arms pulled him in even closer. For a while now, Jean had been trying to build defenses around himself; keep emotions in to keep up his tough charade, and keep people out so they wouldn’t get caught up in this mess. Ever since he met Marco, he had been taking them down one by one, until now, they all came crashing down.

A few minutes later, his tears stopped. His breathing slowed, and he calmed down. He didn’t want to pull away, though, so he stayed like that, in Marco’s arms.

After a few minutes, Marco began speaking. “Jean…I’m not sure how to say this but…you’re different from anybody else I’ve ever met. Sure, I love Connie and Sasha, but you’re different. It’s like…when I first met you, I had no idea who you were, but I knew I could trust you. Maybe it’s a past life thing, maybe it’s a future life thing, but it’s almost like we’re connected, or something.” He gave a small laugh. “That’s probably a load of bullshit, but hear me out. Eren said…Eren said that you don’t like accepting help from others, because you don’t want to be a burden.” Jean stiffened in his arms, but Marco continued stroking the back of his head soothingly.

“I want to help you Jean. Please, let me help you. I know you can’t stay here forever, but for now, you can. You’re safe here, you’ll be okay. You won’t be lonely anymore. Stay with me. I want to keep my promise, Jean. What type of person would I be if I bailed once the going got tough?”

Jean sighed into Marco’s shoulder. He should walk away right now. Leave immediately and never look back, and sneak on the next train to the nearest city. Never endanger Marco or his friends ever again and stay alone properly next time so that he wouldn’t endanger anyone else.

But Jean was selfish. He always had been. He craved Marco’s touch, craved his company, craved him. And although he knew he should get up and leave to protect Marco, he wasn’t able to.

They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes. “Thank you,” Jean finally whispered into Marco’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He felt Marco shake his head. “Don’t be. Though if you’re staying on, I have one condition. You need to tell me what happened before I met you.”

Jean froze. That was something he didn’t want to think about, not now. He tried to bury his past away as much as possible, lock it up and pretend it never happened. Though this was inevitable, wasn’t it? Marco had a right to know, after all.

But no, he didn’t want to tell him. Surely he’d think of him differently if he knew what Jean had done. “I will tell you,” he said slowly. “I promised I would. I’m just…not ready, not yet.”

Marco let out an exasperated sigh. “Jean…will you ever really be ready?” he asked, still using that quiet tone.

“You were the one who said I could tell you when I felt the time was right!” Jean hissed back, finally stepping away from Marco.

“That was before, Jean!” Marco didn’t sound angry, not exactly. He seemed more…tired, and frustrated.  “That was when I thought it was a matter of you sleeping on the streets. I know you warned me helping you would be dangerous, but I didn’t think anything would actually happen! But don’t you understand? A few hours ago people tried to _murder_ you. They would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Eren! You could have died, Jean, I could have lost you…”  

Jean looked down, unable to meet Marco’s eyes. “Please, Jean,” the taller continued, his voice soft. “Let me in.”

Jean sighed deeply, suddenly feeling weary and exhausted. He slumped back down in his chair. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he muttered.

Marco settled himself on the table. “I’ve got time.”

Jean took a deep breath, and began to tell his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kath asked me to "plz update." how could i say no to plz???
> 
> nnnnn it only recently occurred to me how all-over-the-place this whole fic is...i'm not sure whether i'll continue it or not. tho i probably will, it's not gonna be my priority.
> 
> meanwhile, i've started a new [multichapter jeanmarco fic!!!!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1209835) it's gonna take my main focus rn, u should totes check it out
> 
> okay yeah sO THANKS SO MCUH FOR EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED AND SENT ASKS ONTUMB LR FOR THE LAST FEW CHAPTERS.... gosh ily they make me smile so much ty ty tyvm  
> feedback is v much appreciated <3  
> later
> 
>  
> 
> [personal blog](http://www.gaaradical.tumblr.com)  
> [writing blog hell ye](http://www.suppportingcharacters.tumblr.com)


	10. memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Jean Kirschtein's life fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A CHAPTER THATS BEEN A LONG TIME COMING  
> gosh this was a motherfucker to write
> 
> !!! more gritty than other chapters tbh  
> warnings for drugs, smoking, weapons and v minor mentions of someone getting sick

“Jean. Jean! Wake up!”

He groaned, pulling the covers from over his head. He glared at the other male sitting on his bed. “What the fuck, Thomas. It’s like, what? Three in the damn morning? I have school tomorrow!”

Thomas grinned down at him, elbowing him in the stomach. “Quit whining, Jean.”

“Why are you out so late? Did you only get in now? Oh, my _god_ , Mom’s gonna kill you-”

“I know.” The grin melted off of his brother’s features. “That’s why you need to cover for me.”

“What?”

“If she asks, say I came in a few hours ago?”

Jean glared at his older brother. “Why would I do that? What’s in it for me?”

Thomas laughed, pushing at his shoulder. “I’ll buy you a pizza.”

 _Sold_. “Deal.”

Shaking his head, Thomas stood up. “You’re so predictable, Jean,” he said, moving over to the other bed in the room.

“Oi!” Jean called, sitting up and frowning.

Thomas ignored him, all but falling into his own bed. “Goodnight, Jean.”

“Hmph. More like good fucking morning.”

\--------------

It began to happen a lot. Thomas coming home late, that was. But Thomas was his older brother, Jean covered for him. On the nights Jean snuck out late, or came home late, he would do the same.

It helped that their mother was a heavy sleeper. It also helped that they had been able to climb up to the bedroom window and get in since they were eight years old.

Jean wouldn’t question it; the lie that Thomas came in before he went to sleep became normality, slipping off his tongue whenever he needed it. Still; he couldn’t help but think it unusual. Thomas wasn’t exactly a goody-two-shoes, but he had never been the type to sneak out late nearly every night.

Thomas was three years older than him, attending college in Karanese. Because his college was within walking distance, he still lived at home; still bunking with Jean to save money on living expenses (Jean had pinned his hopes on Thomas going to college away, so he would finally have his own room).

Whatever his reasons were, he wasn’t going to get involved. It wasn’t as if it affected him too much anyway. His parents didn’t question the lies claiming he had been home before midnight. No – they were too busy yelling at each other to take much notice of their sons.

It was one of _those_ nights; one of the nights when his cookie-cutter parents broke their usual patterns, staying up late into the night. Jean was lying awake, trying to block them out. Seriously – did they think he couldn’t hear them? He could hear every word they were yelling.

He wished his brother was there.

Not being able to take it any longer, Jean threw the covers off of himself, pulling on a pair of jeans and his running shoes. Moving to the window, he clicked it open, climbing out silently. He needed some air, he needed to get somewhere where he couldn’t hear his mom yelling at her husband.

Thomas had shown him how to climb in through the bedroom window when he was eight years old. It had always been their little secret, and he was able to climb down with ease. Sit out on the windowsill, one hand on the drainpipe, swing out onto it. He knew the little crevices where he could put his feet like the back of his hand. At first, climbing in and out had been terrifying to him; now, he could do it blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.

He landed lightly on the damp grass of his lawn, shivering slightly in the cooler air. Immediately, he walked out of his garden, and set off down the street. It was late now; streetlights being the only light illuminating the dark street. He walked through his street, turning two corners before he saw it.

A dark, sleek car pulling up to the pavement. Two men got out.

One was taller, with light hair. He was what – a few years older than his brother, maybe? And the second man was-

_Thomas?_

They were in deep conversation, both grinning. The other man handed something to Thomas, Jean couldn’t see what it was. “Hey, Thomas!” he called.

Thomas turned around, surprised to see him. A sheepish look fell over his features. “Oh, Jean!” he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. The other man raised an eyebrow, and Jean got the feeling that he had intruded on a private moment. He walked over to Thomas, an eyebrow raised as he glanced at the other man.

“This is Boris,” Thomas introduced, still looking sheepish and slightly uneasy. “This is my little brother, Jean.”

“Ah, the one you’ve told me about.” Boris smiled. Jean began to relax a little. Boris looked from him, to Thomas, to him again. “I’d best be going,” he said. His voice was quiet, but smooth.

Thomas nodded. “Of course! I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Boris nodded. “Be on time. Oh, and hey kid – if you ever want to make some money, get your brother to give you my number.” He winked, before turning away, about to climb back into the backseat of his car.

Jean wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. “Hey!” he said, just as Boris was about to close the door.

Eyebrows raised, the older looked to him. “I-I’m not a kid,” Jean said, crossing his arms. Boris laughed, closing his car door. The car took off almost immediately.

Once the car was out of sight, Thomas gripped his arm tightly, immediately guiding him back the way we came. Jean winced. “Ow, man, what the fuck?”

Thomas’ face was tight. “Stay out of my business,” he said quietly.

Jean frowned. “I just happened to run into you guys! Huh, so, is that where you’ve been every night? With him?”

“None of your business.” His brother’s fingers tightened around his arm, leading him back home.

“Hell no,” Jean retorted, wrenching his arm free from his grasp. Thomas looked at him, about to snap something, but Jean took a few steps away. “They’re arguing. I’m going to Eren’s.”

Thomas glowered at him. “Don’t say a word to anyone about this.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Obviously not. _That’s_ what you’re worried about?”

Thomas’s expression softened a little. “I guess you’re right. Don’t be home too late.”

Jean mumbled a curse as he made his way to Eren’s place. What had that been about? Sure, he knew Thomas’s grumpy side pretty well, but that had been a complete mood swing. He had seemed happy enough with Boris, but after he left, his mood had completely dropped. He couldn’t get his head around it.

He soon came outside Eren’s house. Looking down, he picked up a few small twigs from the base of the big tree in his lawn. He threw them, watching them hit the window to Eren’s bedroom. No doubt, he would still be awake. Kid had a fucked up sleeping pattern; he stayed up all night gaming. And sure enough, a minute or two later, and Eren was coming out of the front door.

“What do you want, asshole?” he asked, pulling the hood of his hoodie up.

Jean gave him a shrug. Eren got it, coming around to lean on his garden wall.

Jean and Eren weren’t good friends. They fought a lot, they argued a lot, they rarely got on when they were in a group of people. But as Armin said, they were very similar (Armin also often said that they were too similar; being the reason for their constant arguments).

But because of that? They _got_ each other. They weren’t best friends, or anything, but when they needed someone to talk with, or yell at, or just to avoid things with, they always ended up with each other.

Jean told him about his parents, about Thomas and about Boris. Yeah, he had told Thomas he wouldn’t tell anyone, but he presumed Thomas meant the likes of their parents.

Eren told him about the fancy scholarship Mikasa had gotten for Trost University. “Y’know her, man. A damn prodigy. Trost are practically paying her way through college, just so she’ll be on their volleyball team.” He laughed a little. “Typical Mikasa. Senior year has barely begun and she already has college practically sorted.”

“What about you?”

Eren gave a shrug. “Hell if I know. I’m gonna apply for some scholarships, I guess. Who knows?”

Jean nodded, he was planning on doing the same thing. “At least if Mikasa’s sorted, your parents have to pay less, right?”

Eren nodded, but said nothing.

Jean frowned. He knew Eren too well to not pick up on it; the feeling that something was wrong. “Hey.” He nudged Eren.

“She’s getting worse,” he said quietly. Eren was a guy who was so full of energy and determination, that he always had a big presence. Now, though? He just seemed small.

Jean bit his lip. “Shit.” Eren’s mother, Carla, had been sick for years now. Jean didn’t know the details of it – Eren never said, he wasn’t going to fucking _ask_ – he knew that her health fluctuated a lot. She had been in hospital a lot, required a few surgeries, and had been more or less tied to the house for years. Eren’s dad was a doctor, who often cared for her at home, but health bills were still quite substantial.

“Yeah. Shit.” Eren laughed, but it was shaky.

“It’ll be alright,” Jean said, trying to sound more positive. He always had been shit at this comforting thing. He felt so awkward; he didn’t know what to do, or say. What could he say, to make it seem better? Should he pat Eren’s shoulder or some shit? With a sigh, he decided on doing nothing.

Eren was the type of guy who could pull an all-nighter, and would seem bright-eyed and fully alert the next day. Right now, he seemed weary, and exhausted. “I hope so,” was all he said.

\--------------

“I got a job,” Thomas said proudly at the dinner table one day.

“Oh?” Jean’s mother asked. “That’s great, sweetie. Where?”

“Well, it’s more of a …paid internship,” Thomas said. “With this businessman, Boris Feulner.” Jean frowned, looking at his older brother. He was using _that voice,_ the voice he used when he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Jean knew him well enough by now to know there was more to the story than a paid internship.

Besides, was that Boris Feulner the same Boris he had met a few nights ago? If that was who Thomas had been staying out late with, what type of business was he doing with him?”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of him,” his mother said.

Thomas smiled. “He’s just starting up, not many people have.”

The front door opened with a click, Jean could hear his father come in. He walked into the hall, sounds of him hanging up his jacket were heard, and then he entered the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, moving to pat Jean’s shoulder. “Got held up at the station.” He noticed that his dad didn’t as much as look at his mom.

He sighed heavily.

***

A few months later, his parents got a divorce. His mom moved back to where she was from, Stohess City. He stayed with his dad. Thomas stayed too; finishing up his last year at college, and working with the mysterious Boris Feulner.

Jean couldn’t help be suspicious – although he worked during the day with Boris, he had been very vague about what it was he was doing, and he still ended up out late most nights.

More odd was how much this job seemed to pay; Jean began to notice new clothes, an expensive new watch, fancy shoes – whatever he was doing, was paying well.

A job that paid incredibly well, a job he didn’t talk much about, and a job that Jean knew required him to stay out late at night.

Jean tried his best to ignore it. Whatever shit Thomas was doing, it wasn’t his problem. It was his last year of high school; he needed to focus on graduating and getting the hell out of here. He stayed out of his brother’s business, covering for him, but never prying like he had used to. When he climbed in the window late at night, he pretended to be asleep.

Whatever was going on, it wasn’t his business. And he didn’t want Thomas freaking out at him again, so he stayed out of it.

That was, until Thomas came home bloody one night.

Jean’s father had begun to spend more and more time at the station. Thankfully, this was one of those nights where he had to spend most of the night there. Jean was grateful for that because he knew something was wrong the moment Thomas came in through the front door instead of the bedroom window.

He had stayed in bed, hearing his brother clattering about downstairs. Stubborn as he was, he tried to ignore him; he tried to fall asleep now that he knew he was home. But curiosity won out, and he ended up padding across the room and to the stairs, looking down into the hallway.

“Holy shit,” he said, hazel eyes widening. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Thomas looked up with a sigh. One eye was swollen shut, his lip bust open, and his nose bloody. He looked like he had been in a fist fight. “Nothing. Go back to bed.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Jean, go back to sleep-”

“Shut the fuck _up_ Thomas.” He sounded a lot calmer than he felt. It was odd, really.

But how could anyone feel calm when their older sibling came in with their face a bloody mess?

Jean felt a little sick, in all honesty. But he ignored that now; walking down the stairs to lead his brother into the kitchen. Thomas said nothing, just followed him silently and slumped in one of the kitchen chairs while Jean grabbed the first-aid kit.

“You should be asleep,” he muttered after a while, after Jean began wiping the blood off of his face. “Don’t you have school in the morning? It’s an important year for you-”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Jean said, frowning. His hands were bloody too, cut and grazed. “Besides, you never cared about that before. What happened to your hands?”

“Fell,” Thomas answered, looking through one eye at Jean. “After the dickbag punched me I fell back. Used them to break my fall but they got all cutup.”

“ _Right_. Perfect.” Jean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “And why did that dickbag punch you?”

Okay, try again. “Were you with Boris when it happened?”

“Jean. This is none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” His voice was louder now. “You get a new job with this Boris, but don’t give us any proper damn details. Mom and Dad are too distracted to even notice that, but you’ve barely told us anything about him. The last job you had? At that restaurant? I used to go in and see you all the time, but I don’t even know where you’re working right now; you’re being so fucking vague. And you’re coming in with all this fucking money – where did you even get it? Why are you out so late, with your supposed boss? And why have you been punched in the face?”

Jean turned away, taking out a glass and filling it with water. He didn’t try to speak again until he had taken a long drink. “Listen,” he said, eventually, voice much lower. “I don’t care – I mean, I don’t give a shit what the fuck you’re doing. My moral compass doesn’t exactly point _north_. I just wish you’d be honest with me. And I don’t want you to get fuckin’ punched in the face again, alright?”

Thomas sighed as he let Jean disinfect the tiny cuts and grazes on his hand. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I mean, it’s not like you’d care that much anyway – you’ve always been _that_ sort of guy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “ _What_ sort of guy?”

“The sort of guy that puts his own needs before vague morals that barely anybody lives by nowadays. It’s a compliment.”

Aforementioned raised eyebrow lowered as he frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment. Get to the point.”

Thomas grinned a little. “Promise you won’t tell?”

Jean sighed. “Fine.”

“No, really Jean; you can’t tell _anyone_. Especially not Dad.”

“Fine! I promise.”

“Alright.” Thomas took a deep breath, once again gaining that sheepish expression. “You’ve heard of the Titans, right?”

Jean stared.

Of fucking course he had heard of the Titans; everyone had. The Titans were one a huge, supposedly underground gang. They were huge, and they were everywhere. In practically every city, it was said there were Titans. They accounted for many of the larger crimes in the nation; from drug smuggling to…much worse crimes. The police were always on their case, but the Titans were like smoke; impossible to catch.

Every now and then the police would arrest a few, but they were so many, and nobody even knew who the head honcho was. There were lots of rumors and conspiracy theories about the main leader; some said he was the president, some said he was this or that politician, some said he was the chief of police. At the end of the day, nobody really knew.

His father had often come home, stressed and frustrated and ranting about them. If there was one thing Jean knew, they were a forced to be reckoned with.

He was still staring at his brother. “The Titans. You’re a fucking member of the Titans. Holy Shit.”

Thomas shook his head quickly. “No – no, I’m not _that_ bad. I’m not like, _in_ with them or anything. I just deliver for them.”

Jean was so stunned, he really wasn’t sure what else to feel. “Deliver what?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “What the fuck do you think? Drugs. Like, I’m not doing them. They give me a package, a meeting point, I go, pick up the money and bring it back to them – well, apart from Boris and a few others, I don’t know very many of them.”

Jean was still staring. Slowly, he grinned. “Our dad,” he began, “is a fucking cop. And you’ve been delivering drugs for the biggest criminal organization in the country for months.”

It was so fucking ridiculous, despite himself, he began laughing.

Thomas grinned wolfishly. “It pays _very_ well,” he said. “And usually goes without a hitch. Tonight was an exception.”

“No fucking shit. So that’s where you’ve been every night? And oh god, Boris Feulner isn’t a business man, is he?”

Thomas gave a slight shake of his head. “Not _every_ night. Well, he is technically a business man. His business is dealing drugs.”

Jean closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I do,” Thomas said after a moment. Jean opened his eyes; Thomas had a strange look on his face. “They’ve been looking for more people to deliver, Jean.”

 _Oh_.

Thomas bit his lip, searching for the right words. “They pay a lot of money for this, Jean. The longer you’re there, the more you make. It’s easy; you’ll rarely have any trouble with it. As long as you’re not caught, you could make big money. Seriously Jean; you could walk into any college you wanted. You could live that comfortable live you’ve always wanted to live. Besides, you remember what Boris said that night? He said if you ever wanted to make money, give him a call! And because I’m already in with them, they’d let you right in.” He took a breath, taking Jean’s glass and taking a sip from it. “Besides, this shit? You’re not really a member. You’re not doing any of the big shit, just passing on packages. It’s simple.”

Jean was silent for a moment, rather shocked by the proposition.

Money had always called out to Jean.

Their family had always been pretty well off – especially on his mother’s side. But living a life of wealth and prosperity was something that always called to Jean. Eren was planning to follow his passion, study film in college. Many of his friends were like that. Jean? No way. He was planning on doing law. Become a lawyer, become rich, move to one of the nice towns in Sina and live a comfortable and easy life. It was all he had wanted.

It would take a lot of hard work to get there though. And this…this was money and wealth, without the years of studying or trying to make it in the business.

A shortcut to success, one might say.

“What do you think?” Thomas asked.

“Give me his number,” Jean responded.

***

The next few weeks passed by quickly.

Jean had been introduced properly to Boris, and some of the other Titans working with him. It had been intimidating to say the least, but Jean had put on a brave face. He didn’t want them to know he was scared shitless.

It became a simple routine; the nights he was needed he would turn up at one of the Titan’s makeshift bases in Karanese; in the back of a nightclub owned by Boris. The bouncers had long since become familiar with Jean’s face and would let him in. He would go straight to the back rooms, where he would be briefed.

It was terrifying, his first assignment. He didn’t even know what he was carrying; not really. But he had an address; somewhere in the shadier part of town. As he walked through the night, he had clutched the knife Boris had given him, as a “welcome present.” It was expensive, no doubt, stupidly ornate, but deadly.

He tried not to seem conspicuous, tried to walk as if he belonged there. It was hard to seem natural; he found himself either holding eye contact for too long, or avoiding it altogether. He seemed awkward and clunky, and was sure the moment he stepped out of the club he would be arrested by some random cop – or worse, his father.

Swallowing his fear, he kept walking, until he got to the end of the street he was meeting the buyer at. He was a large guy, way bigger than Jean. He swallowed his fear.

It had been a surprisingly simple transaction; Jean had given him the package, he had given Jean a thick envelope. Jean went back to the club, gave the envelope to Boris, who opened it up to reveal a thick wad of cash. Grinning, Boris had handed some of that cash to Jean, praised him for a job well done, and sent him on his way, reminding him to be here again on Monday night.

After that it became much easier. Jean gained confidence, and more praise from Boris. Sometimes he hung around in the backrooms, with the others there. He became friendly with some of them, especially Marlowe and Hitch. Marlowe was close with Boris, rigid and serious, while Hitch was a smart-mouthed tech whiz. Jean enjoyed hanging out with them, despite being criminals; they seemed like fairly cool people.

And the money was _great_ ; suddenly, he had more disposable money than he had ever had. He began to buy luxuries which he hadn’t been able to afford before now. It was great! Schoolwork took a backseat; high school was only to prepare for college, right? And college was so he could get a good job and make money, right?

But he was already making money…

Sometimes he felt guilty, but he dismissed those thoughts. After all, if he wasn’t the one delivering, it would only be someone else doing it instead. It’s not like he was doing any real harm, right?

( _right_?)

***

He was hanging out with Eren for the first time in a while, leaning against the park gate and smoking a cigarette. The cigarettes were a new addition; he had started smoking recently. One of the Titans, Marlowe, had given him his first cigarette.

Eren didn’t like it, judging by the way he was frowning at him. “What happened to you?”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. The last month or two? Grades have been dropping, you look way more tired than you usually do. But you look smugger, cockier, too. What’s with all the new clothes?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “What’s it to you, Jaeger?”

Suddenly, Eren’s fist was gripping his shirt. “Shut up, Jean,” he growled. “You’re my friend, so spill before I break your nose.”

Wow, _someone_ was even more temperamental than usual.

Jean pulled away from Eren, frowning as he stamped out his cigarette. “What the fuck’s with you, man? You’re in an even worse mood than usual.”

Eren sighed, and it was like a wave of exhaustion had just punched him in the stomach. He rubbed a hand over his face, sitting down and leaning against the gate. “Sorry,” he muttered, and that was a surprise in itself. It was unusual for him to apologize. “I just. Fuck, Jean, it’s my mom. She’s gotten worse – again – and she needs another surgery.”

Jean suddenly felt bad for snapping out at him. He sat down beside the brunette, once again at a loss on how to comfort him. “I’m sure it’ll be alright,” he offered.

“No, you don’t understand,” Eren continued wearily. “This surgery she needs? It’s pricy. _Very_ pricy. We can’t afford it. Dad’s working overtime and Mikasa and I have picked up part time jobs, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to afford it.”

Jean bit his lip. Money was the problem, here. He felt suddenly guilty about throwing money around, when Eren was working hard to try and make enough for his mother’s surgery. He was tempted to offer him some; he could always earn it back, pretty easily. But no; Eren was too proud. Neither Eren nor Carla would accept Jean’s money.

An idea lit a figurative light bulb over Jean’s head.

“Hey Eren…if I let you in on something, will you promise not to tell?”

***

“Are you fucking serious? They’re _criminals_ , Jean!”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I should report you.”

“You won’t. You better not, I’d get in so much shit-”

“Maybe that’s what you deserve.”

“Shut up, Eren! I didn’t tell you so you could lecture me. My point is that, if they let you in, you’d be making money quicker than working part time at a supermarket. You’d be able to pay for your mom’s surgery.”

“I’m in. But once we’ve enough, we’re calling the police on their asses.”

A sigh.

“Fine. As long as you leave me and Thomas out of it.”

“Agreed.”

***

In the end, Eren was accepted in as well. He hated it, which almost made Jean feel guilty, but he did it, just to get the job done. The more jobs he got done, the more money he would earn, which meant his mom would be able to receive the healthcare she needed, sooner.

Things went well, for a while; his bizarre new lifestyle becoming a normal routine.

He should have known it was the calm before the storm.

When he went into the back room of the club one night, where he was supposed to meet Boris as usual, he was surprised to see Thomas there. He wasn’t due in tonight. Frowning, he exchanged a worried glance with Eren. The atmosphere in the room was much more tense than usual; Boris’s eyes cold and unforgiving, while Thomas stood awkwardly.

“You do realize,” Boris said, his voice cool. “How much money you’ve lost us, because of that slip up? Do you know how much those goods were _worth_?”

Thomas nodded, croaking out a yeah.

It was scary, Jean noted, the tone of Boris’s voice. He had only ever experienced him as being light and playful, teasing while still having authority. Now, it was all ice cold anger, barely contained rage bubbling behind it. A chill went down his spine.

“I’m not a man who takes kindly to lost money. You’re to pay back every cent.”

Thomas gulped. “I don’t have that money. Can’t I just work it back?”

Boris laughed, the sound was chilling. “What happened to all that money you’ve made? And do you really think we’re going to keep you with us, after a fuck-up like that?”

Jean could practically feel the trickle of sweat creeping down his neck. “ _W-what?_ I spent it. If you could let me keep working, I could earn it back for you!”

“I don’t think so. But believe me; you’ll need to find a way to pay me back. If you don’t, I’ll-”

“Sir.” Jean coughed a little awkwardly, stepping forward. He didn’t like the look in Boris’s eyes, or the danger in his voice. Every instinct was telling him to run away. “Thomas is my brother. I could earn the money back for you.”

“Jean,” hissed Eren.

Boris’s cold eyes moved from Thomas to Jean; and for a long while, he just stared. It was as if he was trying to pierce into Jean’s mind, and read him like a book. Jean felt the nerves in his stomach coil under the intense gaze. For the first time since he first started up here, he felt as if he was in danger.

And just like that, the tense moment broke. “Excellent,” Boris said, voice going back to the light playful tone. “That’s the spirit, Jean. Standing up, he stalked over to Jean, coming over to pat him lightly on the cheek. Jean felt the nerves dissolve in his stomach.

Boris turned to Thomas. “You. Get out of my sight, _now_ ,” he hissed. Thomas quickly followed orders, sending Jean a thankful look before scrambling out the door.

Boris switched his attention back to Jean. “You seem reliable,” he noted, an eyebrow raised. “Just make sure you pay everything back; I never forget a debt.”

***

Eren cleared his throat. “I know I haven’t been with you for very long, but I really need this money,” he said. His eyes were blazing in that determination. Jean liked seeing it back, but he couldn’t help but to worry as he watched him, sitting down on one of the couches in the back room.

Boris raised an eyebrow. “What, you want a loan?”

Eren nodded.

“How much?”

Eren bit his lip, before saying his price. Jean winced at the amount. Boris barely batted an eyelid. “You’ve been good with us, kid,” Boris said after a moment. “Consider it done. But remember; if you don’t pay back every _cent_ , there will be dire consequences. Understood?”

Eren looked like his knees were about to buckle in relief. “Understood.”

“Excellent. Dismissed.”

Jean waited a few minutes after Eren had left. He had a bad feeling in his stomach. Nothing physical, of course; it was all in his head. But his gut instinct was telling him something bad was up.

“Sir,” he began. Boris lounged across the couch beside him. “I’d like to pay off some of Eren’s loan, too.”

Boris raised an eyebrow. “That’s awfully generous,” he said, “considering you’re already working to pay back your brother’s debt.”

Jean nodded. “I know. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Eren’s a good kid, and has a good reason for the money. I want to do what I can to help.”

Boris simply nodded. “Have it your way then, kiddo. But remember;”

“I know, make sure I pay back every cent, or else.” Jean forgot himself, speaking out of turn. For a moment, he feared Boris would turn on him. Instead, the older man just laughed.

“You learn fast, kid.” He leaned in closer, close enough that Jean could smell his pricy cologne. “I like you.”

Despite himself, he grinned.

It didn’t feel like he was in debt. He still went on the same jobs (more though, now that he took over Thomas’s jobs too). And at the end of each job, Boris would hand him a wad of cash. The only difference now was that Jean ended up handing most of that cash back.

It was easy. It was manageable. He’d get through it.

***

When Mikasa found out, all hell broke loose.

She was determined to call the police, to get them to stop somehow. She even considered joining herself, to keep an eye on her brother.

After many attempts at calming her down, Eren managed to convince her not to do anything. It had been the only way to pay for Carla’s surgery, after all, and now he had to clear that debt.

Mikasa remembered how kind Carla had been, immediately accepting her into their home and making her feel loved again. With a sigh, she agreed. Eren could look after himself, she knew, but she couldn’t help fretting over him. Every night that he was out, she would wait up, to make sure he got home safe and sound.

“You’re playing with fire, here,” she had warned him countless times. “Please don’t let yourself get burned.”

Eren always nodded, promising to get out of it once he cleared his debt. He hated it, but he kept Boris’s words close to heart. If he tried to walk out with a massive debt, who knew what would happen? But once he had paid it, he should be able to walk away.

He couldn’t wait for that day.

***

“So.” Jean took a long drag of his cigarette. It felt so surreal to be talking about school stuff, college stuff with Eren again. It made him feel like his old self, the old self who didn’t owe a lot of money to a dangerous man in an even more dangerous gang, the old self who didn’t deliver drugs for said gang. “We both got scholarships. To Trost.” It was exactly where he had wanted to go, before he started with the Titans.

He just felt somewhat bitter, now.

Eren felt the same way, sighing deeply. “We got scholarships, and neither of us can go. We both still owe Boris a fuckload of money.”

“We’ve no choice but to stay then.” Another long drag. “It’s not too bad though; stay here for another while, and we can go to college in a few years.”

“Mom’s gonna kill me if I don’t go,” Eren muttered.

Jean nodded. “Same with Dad. I mean, he’s oblivious to this whole thing, but if I stay, he’s going to know something’s up. And if he finds out about this whole thing…” Jean shuddered. As well as getting into a fuckton of trouble himself, people could be arrested. Potentially the people he actually liked, like Marlowe and Hitch. But also, he knew the Titans were much bigger than the small few he saw at the back of the night club. If arrests were made, others would presume he had ratted them out, and surely there would be consequences. Jean shuddered again.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“What if,” Eren began. “What if we faked it?”

“Faked what?”

“Going to Trost! Like, Mikasa and Armin are going; they could cover us from that end. And I’m sure Hitch would be able to forge documents for us, saying we’re attending and that bullshit. In fact, I’m sure she’d practically be able to recreate the whole process. And any money they pay, we can just slip back into their accounts eventually!”

The idea was bitter in his mouth.

“We’ll buy our own place here, make sure to stay out of sight, while really-”

“We’re staying with the Titans.” Jean took another drag. “This is fucking crazy. It’ll never work.”

Eren sighed. “Delivering drugs for the biggest criminal organization in the country is also fucking crazy. We have no choice.”

***

Faking going to college was surprisingly easy, when you had support from the likes of Hitch, and other renowned criminals. Mikasa and Armin had taken a lot of convincing, but they managed to pull it off in the end. Jean couldn’t believe it how easy it had been.

He also couldn’t believe that this was his life now; lying to his parents, pretending he was going to college when really, he was working for a fucking gang.

By the time September had rolled around, The Kirschtein and Jaeger families both believed their sons were attending Trost University. In reality, they were sharing a shitty apartment in the bad side of Karanese city; where they were less likely to run into their parents, or somebody they knew.

Jean constantly texted his parents, making up shit about college. He skyped and called them on the weekends too, and felt so sick about lying he thought he would puke. Thomas knew full well what was happening, but kept his cover. That’s what brothers did, and besides; Jean was stuck here paying off his debt, after all.

 Of course, it meant staying in a lot more, too. The more they stayed out of sight, the more chance there was that they would stay unseen by someone they knew, someone who thought they were at Trost. It was a fine line they were walking, and Jean was often tense. It led to even more fights with Eren, of course.

They tended to stay in for most of the mornings, heading to the nightclub in the evenings, and working. At this stage, the only money they kept was the money they needed for rent and bills – the rest went to their massive debts.

They spent a lot more time at the nightclub too; it was a place where they were positive nobody would find them away from their fake like at Trost University.

Currently Jean was there now, lounging in the nightclub while Eren was out on a job. One of the benefits of being with the Titans was that everyone working in the club knew him, and never questioned him or asked for an I.D. Boris owned the club, and anyone with Boris was automatically a VIP.

Currently the light-haired man was sitting beside Jean, a hand on his thigh. Jean hadn’t been drinking much; just enough to numb everything out; enough to help him forget about the guilt of lying to everyone, to forget about the stress and pressure of leading two lives.

Boris leaned forward, lips brushing against the husk of Jean’s ear. He’d had just enough alcohol to let him lean into the touch, not flinch from the older man. “Y’know Jean,” he said, his voice low, but still loud enough to be heard over the blaring music. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Jean asked, tipsy grin forming.

“One could call it a…promotion,” Boris said. “Pretty much the same work, a few extra tasks and more pay.”

Even in his tipsy state, Jean connected the dots. More pay meant he could pay off his debt to Boris quicker.

“I mean, you have been such a good underling, and you do have an awfully large debt…consider it a thank you, for working so hard. What do you say to that?”

“Of course,” Jean said, grinning stupidly. Had he been sober, he might have noticed the sly edge to Boris’s grin.

***

When he agreed to a promotion, this had not been what he had signed up for.

He still had his delivery jobs. The first other task, had been that night. He had been called by Boris, brought with on a trip downtown. There were two other guys with them, making their number four in total; he wasn’t sure of their names.

He had no idea where they were going, or what they were doing, so he just went along with their orders.

One of the others drove them in that sleek black car (the same Jean had met Boris outside) downtown. Silently, they entered an apartment block. Boris walked confidently, almost strutting up the dingy stairs, looking out of place in his crisp suit. The others followed obediently. Jean felt sick to his stomach, but swallowed his nerves. He wished Eren was with him. He forced himself to think of the pay; the debt it would help clear. He forced himself to think of Thomas and sickly Carla Jaeger, who was much healthier of late. It helped him focus.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when the two men accompanying them began beating on one of the apartment doors. “Open up,” Boris called, tone light and smile in place.

Whoever was behind the door did not open up.

Under the strain of the two men, it didn’t last long. Jean heard a muffled shout as they entered quickly. Paling, Jean tried to stop his hands from shaking as Boris gestured for him to follow.

They already had the man inside pinned. He was forced on his knees, either arm held tightly by one of them. He looked terrified; wide eyes flitting around, searching for a means of escape. Jean’s feeling of dread was growing by the minute. It only increased when he realized he recognized the man; he had delivered to him on more than one occasion.

Boris went down on one knee, smiling amiably. “Hello, my good man!” he said cheerfully. “Long time, no see. I was wondering where my money was.”

The man struggled. “P-please! Please let me go!”

Boris tutted. “Afraid I can’t. Not yet – give me the money you owe me, and I’ll reconsider.”

Jean felt dizzy. “I don’t have the money!” the man said, “but please, give me more time! I-I’ll have it soon, I promise!”

Boris sighed. “Looks like you need a reminder,” he said, standing up. “You have one more week, but we’re leaving you with a warning.” The man let out a frightened gasp. The man holding his right arm made to move, but Boris stopped him with a raised hand.

“Not you,” he said his voice still light. “I want Jean to do it.”

Jean’s eyes widened. “W-what?” His hands really _were_ shaking now.

Boris grinned at him, the smile resembling a shark’s. “Think of it as a challenge; a test of your loyalty, to see if you really are up for this job.”

Jean felt like he was going to be sick. Cool sweat trickled down his neck as he looked at the man in front of him. “Hit him,” Boris commanded.

Jean had hit plenty of guys in his lifetime, but not pinned down, like this. He didn’t even know the guy; for all he knew, he could be just another guy down on his luck, trying to make a change and start again. He mightn’t deserve this.

“No,” he breathed.

Boris’s smiled dropped. He took a few steps toward Jean, hands coming up to his hair and pulling his head back so he could hiss in his ear. “Don’t you dare disobey me, Jean,” he hissed. Jean could feel tears prick at his eyes from the stinging sensation on his scalp. “You’re going to hit him, and you’re going to hit him more than once. You’re going to make him bleed; you’re going to feel his blood on your hands. And you know why you’re going to do it?” He punctuated this with a sharp tug of his hair.

“Because you’re a _coward_ , and you don’t want any harm to come to yourself, or your friend or your pathetic, good-for-nothing brother.” He stepped away again, but the sick feeling of dread didn’t leave.

“Now,” Boris said, with a smug note in his voice. “Hit him.”

Jean looked at the man. It could have been Thomas, if things hadn’t gone the way they did. He tried to send him an apologetic look. Clenching his fist, he brought his arm back, before sending it into the man’s face as hard as he could. The man gave a pained cry, and Jean bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from tearing up.

“Good,” Boris said. “Again.”

***

By the time they left, the man’s blood was all over Jean’s hands.

He got home to the apartment, and barely made it into the bathroom before he got sick.

Eren held his hair back, and for once, didn’t open his big mouth.

Jean was very grateful.

***

In any case, Boris was pleased with Jean’s work. The next day, he had one of his men take Jean to a field out of the city, where he was taught how to use again. A week later, after his second job like that, Boris presented him with another gift; a handgun.

It said heavy in its holster, a constant reminder for Jean. That weight would enable him to take someone’s life, should he wish it.

He was in too deep.

***

He had started to make money, delivering drugs.

Now, he was beating people up, he was being taught how to kill, he still had a massive debt, he was lying to all of his old friends and family, pretending to be living a happy life in a different city.

Where had it all gone wrong?

He was in too deep. Way over his head.

He wanted out but there was no way out.

Jean was going crazy.

***

He didn’t know the girl, but Boris was being particularly vicious towards her. Jean felt the regret and guilt wash over him as he sent another kick to her ribs. She cried out, her head knocking back against the wall of the building, and she slumped in the street again.

Boris looked coldly at her. He turned his gaze to Jean. “I’ve had enough,” he told the younger. “Finish the job. Then report back at the club.” He turned to walk away, back to his car.

Jean’s eyes widened, fear clenching up his insides. The girl let out a whimper from the ground. “Sir?”

He couldn’t see it, but he could feel Boris’s smirk. “You have your gun. Use it. I’ll be listening for the shot. Oh, and make sure you dump the body in the river, okay?”

Jean didn’t move as he heard his footsteps click away.

The girl began to cry as he took out his gun.

Strangely heavy things, guns. Especially when they were loaded.

He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. This didn’t feel real – it was a dream, right? This couldn’t be happening, not really. The ground felt unsteady under his feet, but damn – Jean wasn’t a murderer. All he wanted was a comfortable life, he didn’t ask for any of this.

“Please,” the girl sobbed as he clicked the safety off.

He raised the gun like how he had been shown, aiming carefully, hands surprisingly steady, finger on the trigger.

He was going to kill somebody.

Beating someone was bad enough, but this?

He didn’t even know her, didn’t know her name, anything about her. She looked around his age – pretty enough, with beautiful blonde curls and big brown eyes. She could have loving parents, looking forward to their next call. She could have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, wondering where she was at this hour of the night, growing anxious and wondering should they call the police. She could have hopes, dreams, a future; all which would be shattered by the simple movement of Jean pulling the trigger.

All of the people who she loved, all of the people who loved her wouldn’t know what had happened. She would be reported as missing, first, and then eventually her body would be found; dumped in the river with a bullet in her brain. Police would investigate, and unearth whatever she had done to cross Boris. “Another murder by the Titans,” the newspapers would say, and Karanese would mourn the death of a young girl with a bright future. The police would strive to bring those responsible to justice. No doubt Officer Kirschtein would be involved in the case, completely unaware that his own son, the one he thought was miles away, had been the one to pull the trigger.

It felt like his heart was straining against his chest, beating hard at his ribcage, threatening to burst free.

“What’s your name?” he croaked, his mouth dry.

“Melissa,” she responded. She wasn’t crying anymore, but the streetlights shone off the tear tracks on her face.

“Melissa,” he muttered.

This was it.

Jean raised the gun into the air, firing a single shot into the sky. They both flinched at the loud bang.

“What?” Melissa asked, confusion written all over her face.

“Go,” Jean said, his voice hard. “Pack up your belongings, take your loved ones, but get out of Karanese. _Now_.”

She lay on the ground, looking startled at him. “Why?”

“Because,” Jean wiped the tears squeezing from his eyes. “I can’t kill you. Go before someone comes, and they realize you’re not dead.”

Melissa didn’t move, frozen in stunned silence.

“Go!”

As if waking up, she got to her feet, wincing as pain flooded from her previous injuries. She pressed her lips to Jean’s cheek, muttering a tearful thank you, before hobbling off as fast as she could go.

Jean ran away as fast as he could.

***

It was a few days later when it happened.

He reported to the club as always, at his usual time.

Boris greeted him with a smile, as always. “Ah, Jean!” he greeted, with his predator’s smile. “A word, please? Alone?”

Jean nodded, following Boris as he led him to one of the rooms at the very back, far away from the others. Jean hadn’t been in this one before; it was sparse and bare, and much smaller than any of the others.

Despite asking for a talk in private, there was somebody already there. He was taller, and bulkier than Boris, but between the same steely eyes and light hair, Jean presumed they were related.

“I don’t think you’ve met my brother,” he said, gesturing to him.

The brother smiled, extending a hand. Jean felt a little wary – why drag him all the way here to meet his brother? Forcing his own smile, he shook his hand.

Boris’s brother squeezed his hand tightly, yanking Jean forward. Jean barely had time to react before his fist was in his face. The impact dazed him, and he stumbled. A sharp kick to his legs, and he was on the ground, crying out in pain.

It didn’t end; kicks rained down upon him, and Jean didn’t have time to recover and strike out himself.

He was hauled to his feet, thick hands forcing him to face Boris. He was wearing his sickly sweet smile again, and reached up to gently pat Jean’s bloody face. Jean spat at him, and he laughed, taking his smartphone out of his pocket. He brought an image up, and then turned it so Jean could view it. His breath caught in his throat.

“Melissa,” he muttered.

“You really thought you could trick us? How cute.” Boris chuckled again. “I should have known that you wouldn’t have the guts to kill her. One of my contacts spotted her at the train station.”

At least she had gotten away. Despite everything, Jean grinned.

That angered Boris. Boris was the type of man that liked to have every little thing under his control; he was like a chess player, and those around him were just pawns. But Jean wasn’t completely under his control, and he never was; he could control his actions, but never his thoughts.

Boris wanted Jean to feel terrified.

Jean was terrified.

But he wasn’t going to let Boris know that.

Boris could punch better than Jean thought. He bit his bloody lip hard to stop himself from crying out, and grimaced at the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

“I’m going to kill you,” Boris growled, his cheery, easy façade finally gone. “I’m going to find a way to get my money back off of you, and then I’m going to kill you. Do you understand?”

Jean said nothing.

“I asked you do you _understand_?!”

It was the first time he had heard Boris shout.

“Fuckin’ crystal clear, boss,” Jean managed, blood dribbling from his lip.

Boris glared at him, an ice-cold glare that had shivers running down his spine. He turned, stalking out of the door, and turning to his brother. “If he tries to escape, kill him,” he said. “He’s going to die sooner or later.”

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He had fucked up. He lay slumped in the corner, blood trickling lazily from his nose and lip, curled up over his bruised body, trying not to get sick from the fear making his stomach churn.

He was going to die. Worse, they might get Eren after this.

Jean didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of him.

He didn’t want to die.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god_

Maybe he deserved this, for beating up all of those people. He had nearly killed someone, after all. Maybe he deserved this.

Maybe he didn’t.

Jean wiped the blood away from his lip with his sleeve, shifting slightly.

He felt something press against his thigh in his pocket.

_His pocket knife._

Things seemed to slow down, for a moment.

Boris’s brother was guarding the door, glaring at Jean, always watching.

Could he do it? If he had to, could he do it? Could he kill another human being?

Jean realized with a sinking feeling that his choices were kill, or be killed.

He didn’t want to die.

He’d have one shot, and one shot only.

Jean took a deep breath. Ignoring the pain in his bruised body, he hauled himself to his feet, hand darting to his pocket and taking out the knife. At the same time, he began to charge towards the door, unfolding the blade. It was the ornate knife Boris had given him when he joined.

Slashing wildly at Boris’s brother, he had hoped that the threat of the blade would be enough to make him back off. Laughing, the bigger man dodged the slash easily, massive hands coming up to tighten around Jean’s throat.

Everything went blurry.

Jean struggled, gasping for air but with the pressure on his throat, he couldn’t breathe. He tried twisting, kicking, but nothing was working; the grip on him was too strong. All he could hear was this man’s laughter, the blood pumping in his ears.

Was this how he was going to die? His parents wouldn’t know for weeks. Eventually when they hadn’t heard from him they would contact Trost University, and find out he had never attended. He was going to die as a pathetic criminal who never got the chance to redeem himself, never got the chance to fall in love, or live the comfortable life he dreamed of. He was going to die in a dingy backroom of a nightclub, and the last thing he would see was this man’s creepy smile.

His vision was going blurry. He couldn’t breathe.

And then Jean remembered something they had both forgotten;

_He was still holding the knife._

Thrusting blindly, he raised the knife in a viscous swoop, one final vie for his life. The blade sunk into the man’s chest, and he let out a surprised noise. Warm blood splattered from the wound, the man stumbled back, and released his grip on Jean.

Jean managed to pull the knife free before he collapsed to his knees, sucking in air.

Looking up at the man, he froze.

He was still, unmoving, eyes glassy as his body slumped on the floor. There was blood everywhere; on Jean’s hand, his knife, the body, the floor-

Jean got to his feet slowly, feeling unsteady on his feet.

The door clicked open, and a familiar face entered.

“Shit,” Hitch, resident smart-ass and tech whiz said, surveying the scene. She immediately rushed forward, grabbing Jean’s arm and steadying him. “Hoped to get here before something like this happened,” she muttered.

“What’re you doin’?” Jean muttered. Hitch was one of the only people he was close with here, but she still worked for Boris.

“What’s it look like? Helping you.” Hitch half dragged Jean out of the room. “There’s a back entrance, leave through there.”

“I know you’re helping me,” Jean muttered. “Why?”

“Because you’re a good kid, who doesn’t deserve to die because you had too much of a heart to kill somebody.”

 They stayed in silence until they reached the back entrance.

Hitch grasped his shoulder. “Jean. Jean, listen to me. You can’t stay here. Boris? He’s only one of _many_ small leaders in the Titans in this city. You can’t stay in Karanese, no matter where you go, he’ll find you. And murder you. The cops won’t be any help either. The Titans are everywhere, but you’ll be slightly safer away from here. Go, get your friend, get your ass out of Karanese, and stay out of sight. Don’t draw any attention to yourself, and you might make it. Understood?”

“Understood.” Jean hesitated, looking at the woman in front of him. “Hitch. What’ll they do to you? If they know you helped me?”

Hitch laughed and looked away. “I can handle myself, big guy. Now _scram_.”

Jean didn’t need to be told again; he squeezed Hitch’s shoulder and ran as fast as his bruised body could go.

***

Two hours later, and he and Eren were on a train to Trost.

He had filled Eren in on the whole story, and they were both shaken, to say the least.

Jean had washed the blood off his hands, and they had caught the first train to Trost. Not before Jean dumped the knife from Boris in the river, though.

They arrived in Trost a few hours later, just as the sun was rising. Eren had briefed Armin and Mikasa on their situation, and they were following directions to Armin’s apartment. On the way, they passed a tiny corner store, the type that sold newspapers and candy and cigarettes.

“You’ve stopped smoking,” Eren noted quietly.

They were both very quiet. What could they say to each other to make the fear go away? Was there anything worth saying?

“Yeah,” was all Jean said.

Until he saw one of the morning’s newspapers. The headline was heavy black print; **KARANESE YOUNG MAN BEATEN BY TITANS**

Underneath the headline was a picture of an all-too-familiar face. An old picture, where he was smiling and carefree, not fitting with the headline at all. Eren cursed. Jean was pretty sure he stopped breathing.

  _Thomas_.

He raced into the store; his hands never stopped shaking as he dug out some change and paid for the newspaper. Walking back outside, he slumped on a bench with Eren as they read the short article. The news had probably just broken before print, so there wasn’t much on it.

**Thomas Wagner-Kirschtein, (25), was found in the early hours of the morning by the police. Beaten and bloodied, he was unconscious at the scene, and was quickly rushed to hospital. _Titans_ had been written in a substance suspected to be blood on a nearby wall. Mr. Wagner-Kirschtein has yet to wake up in hospital. The extent of his injuries has not been released. Karanese Police Department is currently investigating.**

It felt as if someone had snapped the last string tying him to earth. “Fuck,” he muttered, clenching his fists. “This – this is all because of _me_. They attacked him to get at me, and he hasn’t woken up yet, and-”

“Shut it, Kirschtein,” Eren said, squeezing his shoulder. “He’s going to wake up. Right now? We need to focus on ourselves. Thanks to you, we’re in a right fuckin’ mess.”

Jean couldn’t help but agree. “Shut the fuck up, Eren. It’s your fault too!”

“I wish I hadn’t listened to you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and looking so, so tired. “We should go to the police.”

“Like hell,” Jean spat. “What can they do? Nothing. They won’t catch any titans, they’ll lock me up for murder, and _they’ll_ find me in prison, and kill me anyway.”

Eren said nothing. “Let’s just find Armin,” he said quietly, after a long silence.

The next few hours passed in a blur; he remembered entering Armin’s apartment and sleeping for a few hours. He remembered calling his parents, talking to them separately about Thomas and about how his fake life’s schedule didn’t allow time to come home for a while. He left then, when Eren was still asleep; leaving a single note;

_-e_   
_they want me more than they want you_   
_leave me alone and you should be fine_   
_-j_

_***_

He wandered the streets of Trost, feeling disconnected.

Feelings were constantly swirling around inside; anger, guilt, regret. The worst was a relatively new one; loneliness. It came in on all sides, swooping down and crushing him. It was for the best though; at least in his isolation, he wasn’t harming anybody else.

Eren of course, always found him. Always found him and yelled about how they should go to the police. As with most of their arguments, it resulted in a fist fight that left them both exhausted.

_(There was still a bond between them though; a bond shown in the after moments of their scuffles when Eren would wordlessly hand him his cell phone and Jean would call his Mom and then his Dad; telling them about his fake life while they told him how Thomas still hadn’t woken up)._

Most of all, he tried to forget. Tried to numb the pain by blocking out the memories; focusing on putting one foot in front of the other instead of thinking back on how badly he had fucked up.

It worked for a while.

Sometimes the loneliness was too much to bear.

Weeks and weeks passed like that.

It was one of those days; where he craved human contact. He looked like a street rat though; and most simply threw him disgusted looks. He ended up outside a coffee shop, _Hanji’s House_ , looking in at the carefree folk inside. Hadn’t even noticed he was staring until one of the workers came out.

“Hey there,” he said. “I work in the coffee shop just there. I saw you looking in, and gosh it’s so cold and wet, I thought you might need a little warming up.” He was so ridiculously bright and optimistic despite the rain, Jean almost felt as if he was warming up at his words alone.

How long had it been since someone smiled at him like that? How long had it been since someone had been that friendly? It was too good to be true.

“I…I don’t have any money,” Jean had said.

“It’s okay,” Freckles said. “Hanji – she’s the owner – always lets us take a coffee at the end of our shift, and she never charges us! But I don’t really like coffee…I saw you looking in the window but you didn’t come in, so I thought that you might enjoy a free coffee more than I would!”

He inspected the guy further; he was almost like an open book; Jean could practically read the kindness and positivity in the freckles on his face. Still; there had to be _some_ catch. Before he believed that genuinely kind, selfless people were one in a million. Now, he doubted their existence altogether.

“Why are you being so nice?” he asked. “You don’t know me.”

Do you have to know someone to be nice to them?” the man asked. “It’s just a cup of coffee. It’s no big deal.”

Kind, selfless, and naïve, it would appear. But he seemed genuine; Jean slowly reached for the cup, sighing in content as he sipped coffee for the first time in ages.

“Thank you,” Jean said, gratitude rich in his voice.

”Anytime,” the freckled man said.

Jean walked away, a smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fuckin hate u thomas  
> lmao i love how the longer this goes on the less realistic it gets  
> remember when weekly updates were a thing :') the good ol days  
> listened to [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvjLgjtJKsc) on repeat while writing this chapter. talk about unfitting music.
> 
> OKAY FEW THINGS BECAUSE I HAVENT BEEN TALKING TO Y'ALL IN AGES  
> 1\. this hasnt anything to do with this but i wanna say it anyway. y'all should check out this [blog](http://snkpositivityproject.tumblr.com/) and this [blog](http://jeanmarcopositivityproject.tumblr.com/). god knows the snk fandom is shitty at times, and it could use a little positivity so sb for these two blogs!
> 
> 2\. im gonna start. tagging my little updates about this as fic: hitr so if u wanna check status on it or w/e check that tag. too lazy for fic: home in the rain so im just tagging stuff as fic: hitr
> 
> 3\. THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT AND KUDOS AND COMMENTS AND ASKS ONT UBMLR AND WOW ILY GUYS WOW WOW thanks so much for getting this to 300+ kudos! <3 hope y'all enjoyed this chapter
> 
> 4\. there was a fourth thing but i can't remember it
> 
> oKAY  
> [tumblr dot com](http://suppportingcharacters.tumblr.com/)  
> [i made a twitter. have yet to decide whether its a development for the better or worse.](https://twitter.com/scharacters)


End file.
